Who Protects The Protector?
by PoeticallyIncorrect1
Summary: An attack lands Marshall in the hospital but can the police and the marshals keep him safe in case the attacker decides to finish the job? Mary & Marshall friendship.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N You can blame my Muse, she obviosly prefers the dry heat of New Mexico to midwest humidity._

_Characters not mine although I just love to play with them, I promise to return them in one peice._

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

_Being in law enforcement we've all sworn to serve and protect the public. To keep the innocent safe and apprehend the ones intent on causing them harm. It's a universal calling no matter the branch of service and it's what connects us all. When we hear of a fellow law enforecement officer fallen victim we all feel a shared pain as well as a common desire for vengence against those responsible. But so much sharper is that pain when the victim is the one who works beside us. At times it can almost seem unbearable._

Marshall Mann sat at the bar in the recently opened _Square 109 Restaurant_._ & Pub _and sipped his third whiskey in about 2 hours. It was Friday night and he was feeling older than his years. and more than ready to spend the weekend regrouping both mentally and physically before facing again the unpredictability of being a WITSEC Inspector. The preceding week had been filed with seemingly unending crisis from one of his witnesses found dead in their apartment to another one diagnosed with terminal cancer. However the death had been ruled natural causes and no foul play suspected but still it had led to some anxious moments until that determination had come through.

The red headed bartender paused from wiping out ash trays to ask, "You ready for a refill yet?"

"No, I'm good," Marshall replied, setting the glass down. He glanced at the clock above the mirrored wall. "Need to be taking off anyway."

" Okay," she replied, turning her attention to the other patrons.

Dropping a couple of bills on the bar, he said, "Keep the change," and reached for his jacket.. Slinging it over his shoulder, he headed for the door.

After watching his slender figure as he made his way past the pool table and juke box, she turned to the woman who had quickly taken the vacated bar stool and asked, "What can I get you?"

Outside there was a slight breeze blowing and the night sky obscured by clouds. Marshall knew that to be a sure sign of one of the brief storms, furious in their intensity as way to make up for their rarity and he quickened his pace, heading for the GMC parked just around the block.

He was approaching a dimly lit alley when he heard a woman screaming only to be abruptly cut off. Although he'd been someone lost in thought when while he walked, at the sound of the scream he was instantly alert, every bit the US Marshal. Reaching for his weapon with one and with the other making sure his phone was ready to call 911 he approached the alley

The light from one nearly burned out street lamp cast a dim illumination over the scene. By an old trash dumpster a young woman was lying sprawled face down on the ground. There was no one in sight as Marshall knelt at by her side feeling for a pulse, his gun still clasped in his other hand. There was none and the skin beneath his fingers was sticky with blood. Wiping his hand on his jeans he started to pull out his phone.

So intent was he on the woman that he didn't realize that they were no longer alone in the alley Not until he felt something strike him hard in his side; a blow that drove the breath from his lungs and toppled him onto the body. Attempting to raise himself up to defend himself against his assailant, the US Marshal caught a brief glimpse of a bearded face and long hair before a final blow struck him in the head instantly sending him spiraling into blackness and oblivion. As he lay there the threatened down pour arrived almost instantly washing away the evidence and leaving only the two motionless figures.

The storm had ended and the bars were beginning to empty out when a drunken man stumbled into the alley to relive himself and upon seeing what he perceived to be two bodies, he promptly flooded his pants and ran to find a cop. Flagging down a passing patrol car he pointed to the alley and managed to stammer out, "B-bodies in t-there.!"

Although it was obvious that the man had spent _way_ too much time in his cups, the officers were inclined to take him serious enough to give the alley a cursory look Just to make sure that it wasn't department store mannequins he'd seen. After all a used junk shop opened up on it.

Flashlights in hand the patrol officers cautiously approached the entrance of the alley, their powerful beams soon picking out the figures on the ground; a woman in pink sequined shorts and halter top and a man lying face down a foot or so away. Kneeling by the woman it was quickly obvious that she was a case of or the ME. The younger office knelt by the man and touched his neck expecting to find the same but although the skin beneath his fingers was slightly chilled, he could still feel a faint pulse. Looking up at his partner he ordered, "This one's still got a pulse but we need an ambulance pronto.!"

The other one had already radioed for the Coroner's wagon and quickly amended his report. "We need EMTS to this location. One's still breathing."

"Right on it," was the reply.

While one patrol officer move d to the entrance to the alley to direct the ambulance the other stayed kneeling by the injured man, checking fro any ID.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Albuquerque PD Detective Bobby Dershowitz happened to be on duty and caught the call about the homicide. Arriving at the crime scene just minutes after the ambulance, he watched the paramedics working on the injured victim. "Any ID on either of them?"

The patrol officer turned to Dershowitz, wallet in hand. "None on the girl but ID on the man says he's a US marshal—Marshall Mann."

"Damn," the detective muttered. He wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to Mann's superior. But at least _he _could pass it on to his partner. "Let's go see the girl."

"She's over here. Bastard damn near decapitated her when he cut her," the officer swore leading Dershowitz a few feet away.

The detective looked down at the young woman lying on the soggy ground. Although the rain had washed away most of the blood, revealing the varied slash marks including the one across her throat. It had most likely been the fatal one, severing both the juggler vein and carotid arteries, leading her to bleed maybe a minute. "Whoever did this was literally covered in her blood. Get a couple of officers to help check out the dumpsters in a five block radius," he instructed.

"Got a gun over here," the crime scene tech announced carefully holding up the firearm.

Dershowitz gave it a cursory glance and said, "Go ahead and run a check on the registration number but it'll probably turn out to be Mann's. He's got a carry permit but he usually won't pull out his piece unless he feels it's absolutely necessary. I can't say the same for some of the others we issue permits to."

The tech carefully bagged the gun as possible evidence anyway and resumed his search of the still wet alley. "Not gonna have a snowball's chance in Hell of finding much after the storm," he was muttering as he carefully shined his flashlight.

Dershowitz had to silently agree as he noticed that the paramedics were getting ready to move the gurney. "What hospital are you taking him to?" he asked.

"Albuquerque Medical Center. Now if you'll excuse us, we really need to get a move on," the older of the two said, carefully helping to guide the gurney on the uneven ground.

The detective made a quick mental note of which hospital. Stepping aside, he caught a glimpse of the pale still figure on the gurney. Turning from the sight he moved back to the girl to wait fro the assistant ME. To arrive.

Dr. Kylie Rawlings arrived a few minutes later and went to examine the body. Carefully making a small slit in the girl's side, she inserted the thermometer to get a body temperature tin order to determine time of death. "She died sometime between 11:00pam and midnight. Once I get her back to the morgue I can probably make a closer determination," she told Dershowitz.

"The storm struck about 11:15 and the murder occurred before that," he replied.

"During that time I was doing the autopsy on a fifteen month old baby girl who died of shaken baby syndrome" the assistant ME said as she directed the girl's hands to be bagged and taped in an attempt to preserve what little evidence remained.

Stepping a few feet away from the body the detective pulled out his phone and dialed the police station. "I need you to look up the number of US Marshall Stan McQueen and give it to me," he told the officer on duty.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, checking the computer database of local law enforcement. Quickly finding the phone number she read it off to Dershowitz.

He quickly copied it down and hung up the phone only to dial the number he'd just been given.

Stan had been sound asleep until the phone rang. Quickly fumbling for it, he said, "McQueen here."

"This is Bobby Dershowitz. I'm calling to let you know That Marshall Mann was assaulted earlier tonight," the detective explained.

"How? What?' Stan was asking as he reached for his shirt.

"Don't know all the answers yet. He's been taken to Albuquerque Medical Center," Bobby said. "Better let Shannon know. And I'll meet you down there."

"Be there right away," the US marshal said. He hung up the phone and then quickly speed dialed Mary Shannon's number.

Mary had finally drifted off to sleep but when her phone rang she was instantly awake. A quick check of the called ID showed it was from Stan and the first thought in her mind was they had a witness in trouble. "What's going on, Stan?" she asked.

"Mary, Marshall's in the hospital, her superior said.

"What? Which one?" she asked quickly.

"He's at Albuquerque Medical Center. I'll meet you there," Stan replied. He listened as the call was quickly cut off and resumed getting dressed.

Mary quickly jumped out of bed shedding her sleepwear and pulling on jeans and a faded T shirt. Quickly slipping her feet into a pair of sandals she grabbed keys and purse and made for the door.

From the living room came the sound of the TV and she peered in there seeing her mother start to sit up on the couch. "I heard the phone ring. What's going on?" Jinx asked.

Mary sighed and decided on the truth. "Mom I gotta go out. Stan just called and said that Marshall's in the hospital."

"Again. What happened?" Jinx asked.

"I don't know myself yet," the young woman answered catching sight of the glass on the coffee table. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Nothing but water. The Nostalgia network was running _Cinderella _and that actress Leslie Ann something reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger," Jinx replied.

"I remember when it used to be you'd have me and Brandi watching it with you. I'm not sure when I'll be back," Mary said as she let herself out the door. Hurrying to her car, she took a minute to check the Albuquerque map to find the quickest route to the medical center and then sped off going as fast as she dared above the speed limit and praying she didn't get pulled over.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

The paramedics had radioed ahead their ETA so when the ambulance arrived at the ER it was met by several member s of the trauma team. They quickly moved forward to help unload the gurney and rush inside. One of the doctors was briskly asking questions. "What was his last BP?"

"125/95," the paramedic reported.

The doctor deftly pried up each of Marshall's eyelids and shined this penlight frowning at the reaction. "Pupils are sluggish. Call Neuro for a consult ASAP and as soon as he's checked out down here I want him up to Radiology priority one fro head CT and skull series."

Once inside the trauma room a couple of nurses began cutting away the soaked clothing. As the shirt and undershirt were cut away, the deep spreading bruise on the patient's left side was revealed

The doctor made a quick check of Marshall's sides and abdomen finding no rigidity to indicate bleeding but he could feel obviously broken ribs beneath his fingers. "As soon as Neuro gets here we'll send him on to Radiology," he told the rest of the team.

The door to the trauma room opened and a young Native American woman wearing scrubs and lab coat quickly entered asking "What have you got?"

"Head trauma. Last BP was 132 over 99. Pupils are sluggish to react to light. He also has several broken ribs on his left side but no indication of internal bleeding. We're waiting to transport him to Radiology," the lead trauma doctor replied.

"Good call, Mike," Dr. Anitra Featherstone replied as she moved to the exam table and pulled out her penlight to check Marshall's pupils. "Get another BP and then let's get a move on."

As soon as he reached the hospital Dershowitz hurried into the ER and over to the main desk. Pulling out his badge he said, "I need to know the condition on Marshall Mann."

. The ER clerk mad a check of the patient tracking records and replied, "Mr. Mann has been taken to Radiology—third floor."

He gave her a nod of thanks and turned just in time to see Mary Shannon rushing through the doors. Moving quickly to intercept the woman, he pulled her aside.

"Get the Hell out of my way!" she snapped, "I need to find out about Marshall!"

"You need to calm down or you won't find out anything," Bobby told her.

Mary jerked free of his grasp and said, "I'm gonna count to three and if you haven't moved your ass then I'm just gonna move it for you! And what are you doing here anyway?"

"On the job. Didn't McQueen tell you, I'm the one who told him about your partner being here?" Dershowitz asked.

"I didn't give him the chance," Mary replied. She looked up at the detective. "Bobby, what happened to Marshall?'

"All I know is that I got called to a homicide scene and he was lying in the alley where he'd apparently been attacked. Now I know you can't tell me anything but do you know why he'd be down in the saloon district?" he asked.

She sighed wearily and replied, "I honestly don't know. He never said anything about meeting anybody there. As far as I know he was off duty and on his own time. What ever you find out I need to know."

Bobby pulled out his notebook to jot down what he's been told and said, "I'll do what I can, Shannon."

The doors to the ER opened to admit Stan who hurried over to Mary and Dershowitz. "

The detective replied, "I found your guy unconscious at my homicide scene. I already asked Shannon but I'll ask you. Do you have any idea why Mann would be down in the saloon district at 11:00pm?"

"He signed out at 5:30 and as far I know he was just going home. He probably went out to have a drink or meet someone he knew," Stan replied.

"Okay. So he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He did have his weapon out so what I believe what probably went down was he heard or saw something in the alley and went to see what he could do," Dershowitz told them.

"That sounds like Marshall," Mary commented.

"Most likely whoever killed the young woman in the alley is the one responsible fro the attack on Mann," Bobby continued.

"What if whoever realizes he left Marshall alive and could possibly identify him?" Mary asked concern in her voice.

"We'll deal with that if and when it comes to it," Stan said tiredly.

"I just talked to the ER clerk and she said they've taken him up to Radiology on the third floor," the detective told them.

"Come on, Mary," Stan said

"I'll go up with you and then I need to get back to the police department," Dershowitz said. "I still have a dead girl to identify." He followed the marshals as they headed for the elevator.

The x-rays had been completed on Marshall and he'd sustained, as the neurosurgeon had suspected, a small depressed skull fracture at the point of impact with whatever he'd been struck with. Now he was undergoing the head CT to confirm if any more damage had occurred which the rising BP seemed to indicate.

Dr. Featherstone pointed to a small spot on the CT scanner image. "I see it—an epidural hematoma near the fracture lines. Call the OR and tell them to have a team on standby," she instructed the medical student who was studying the readout beside her.

The Med student moved to the phone to make the necessary calls.

Arriving on the third floor, the three law enforcement officials were shown chairs in the waiting area and left to themselves. Despite her weariness Mary kept her eyes fastened on the corridor alert for any sign of her partner and best friend.

Suddenly there was a gurney being rapidly wheeled toward the elevator and Mary immediately stood up to see who was on it. Catching sight of the patient's face, she cried out "Marshall!" as if at the sound of her voice he could open his eyes and reassure her that he was all right. As she started to almost on instinct head toward the gurney she felt herself being gently restrained by Stan and Dershowitz. "Where are you taking him?" the older marshal asked.

"Surgery," was the terse answer while another voice yelled, "Hold the elevator!"

"Come on," Stan said quietly as they stepped aside. "I'll find out which floor is the surgical one and we can wait there."

Mary stood staring after the departing gurney until the elevator doors closed. Then with Stan's arm around her shoulders she let herself be led into the next available elevator.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N **The exchange in italics indicates a flashback scene. And thanks to all who reviewed._

_**Who protects The Protector?**_

Due to the late hour the surgical waiting area was nearly deserted. Finding a couple of seats in an out of the way corner the two marshals sat down to wait. Mary leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "God, Stan, I-I can go through this again," she admitted fighting back tears.

The older marshal was well aware of the feeling of déjà vu she had to be experiencing. "Marshall's tough, Mary, he'll pull through. Don't _you_ forget that," Stan replied trying to sound reassuring. Spotting a box of tissues on a table he went to get them.

"Thanks," she replied, grabbing a handful and using them to daub at her eyes.

Setting the box on an empty chair," her supervisor said, "I'm going to go see what passes for coffee around here and go get some. Want me to get you anything?"

"Coffee is fine," Mary answered.

"Okay. Be right back." He headed for the vending machines checking his pockets for any change.

Mary was able to regain most of he r composure by the time Stan returned with two dubious looking cups of hot coffee. Taking the one offered, she asked, "Now what?"

Stan sighed and took a sip of the caffeine laden beverage. "As soon as we leave here, I need to get back to the office and looking in Marshall's file for his contact numbers. That's probably gonna be his parents. They're going to need to know."

Finally the doors opened and a weary looking doctor stepped out into the waiting area asking, "Is there anybody here for Marshall Mann?"

"We are," Stan said getting to his feet.. "I'm Stan McQueen, Marshall Mann's supervisor."

"Dr. Anitra Featherstone. Mr. Mann sustained some broken ribs as well as a depressed skull fracture resulting—"

Listening to the doctor talking for just a second Mary wished that Marshall was there to help translate the medical mumbo jumbo.

Dr. Featherstone was saying, "….which I was able to successfully remove. Right now he's in stable condition in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit where he can be more closely monitored."

"Can we see him?" Mary asked quietly.

The doctor was thoughtful for a moment before replying," The hospital policy is quite clear that family members only be allowed in the Intensive Care Units.." Catching of the disappointed expression on the other woman's face she continued. "In certain cases exceptions have been made. However, let me tell you that Mr. Mann is still under the effects of the anesthesia and will probably not even know you're there."

_But at least I'll have seen Marshall_ Mary said to herself. Aloud she said, "Thank you, Doctor."

"I'm giving you five minutes and not a second more," the neurosurgeon said firmly.

Stan placed a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder and said, "I'll wait out here."

She nodded slightly and followed the doctor through a set of doors.

"He's in here," the doctor said quietly indicating a closed door at the near end of the hallway. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Leaving Mary alone she went to make some notations in her patient's chart.

Entering the small room she paused and took a deep breath at the sight of her partner lying so still and pale in the bed. His head was wrapped in bandages and some of what she could see of his hair was spiky with dried blood. The sounds of the varied monitors were like background music in n otherwise silent room. Moving to the side of the bed, she gently picked up Marshall's hand being careful not to disturb the IV attached to it and softly said, "It's gonna be okay, Doofus," using what was now almost he r nickname for him. Gently stroking his hand she thought back to the time she'd first used that word.

_She'd been working with Marshall for almost two weeks and it was the first time Stan had sent them out of state to transport a witness. Now as they headed to Lake Havasu City Arizona, she had learned more than she'd ever cared or wanted to know about the __London Bridge, Lake Havasu and even a cheesy TV film called Arizona Ripper which starred David Hasselhoff and Randolph Mantooth._

"_Enough!" she exclaimed and would've thrown up her hands in exasperation had she not been driving. "You know for being a smart guy you can be such a doofus at times."_

"_Doofus—alliteration of Goofus and derived from the Scottish word Doof," Marshall __quickly explained._

"_Goofus Doofus," she said in a sing song voice._

"_That so?" he asked his tone challenging._

_She wondered if for a moment she'd pushed too far, starting a fight hadn't been in the plan; she just didn't want to travel the rest of the way to their destination with the talking trivia book going non stop. Taking a chance she looked over at her traveling companion and immediately saw the amusement in his blue eyes. "That so!" she shot back._

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Mary slowly replaced his hand on the bed and turned to leave. "I'll be back when I can ," she promised. "Meanwhile you just get better because I miss my friend," she said softly her voice breaking.

"Come on and I'll take you home" Stan said gently once he saw her return to the waiting area. He could tell she looked about ready to fall over, the exhaustion and worry beginning to take their toll.

"What about my car?" Mary asked.

"You can get it this afternoon," her supervisor replied taking her by the arm and leading her out to his car.

"Maybe Marshall will be awake by then," she said optimistically

The sun was starting to rise by the time they pulled in the driveway of Mary's house. "Thanks," she said, starting to open the door.

"I'll come in with you," Stan said, helping her out and to the front door.

"Mary?" Jinx said in concern opening the door and having her daughter practically fall into her arms. She looked over to Stan.

"She's okay, just exhausted," he replied. "I'll help you get her to her room. Placing his arm around Mary's shoulders he helped Jinx get her to the bed and lying down.

"Would you like some coffee?" Jinx asked, closing the bedroom door behind them. "I'm going to get some myself since I couldn't sleep and was up all night. How is Marshall?"

"I can't really say anything since the incident is under police investigation. Mary did get to see him when he got out of surgery." Stan answered. "And the offer for coffee sounds very tempting so yes. Then I need to get back to the office."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N The next ones make up for the shortness of this chapter I promise. _

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Arriving back at his office, Stan immediately pulled out Marshall's personnel file to look up the emergency contact numbers everyone was required to provide; numbers that no one ever wanted to have to call. As he suspected, the contact numbers were for Marshall's parents and he quickly dialed the first one getting an answering machine. "This Is US Marshal Stan McQueen. It's important I get in touch with you concerning your son Marshall," he said and gave his cell number.

Despite what the attack appeared to be on the surface, the marshal knew they couldn't dismiss out of hand any possible connection to Marshall Mann's position as a WITSEC inspector. Turning to his computer he quickly brought up a list of Marshall's witnesses and their status. Nothing seemed to raise any obvious red flags. But still a one on one check wouldn't hurt.. Deciding that dividing up the list of witnesses could wait until he talked to Mary, Stan picked up the phone to make yet another necessary phone call.

Mary slept until almost noon before getting up. After a quick shower and dressing in her usual black jeans and tank top she headed for the kitchen for coffee and scrounge something for lunch. Seeing Jinx sitting at the table with a sandwich and glass of some clear liquid she asked, "Hi, Mom. Any calls for me?"

"Not a one. Did you sleep well?" Jinx asked.

"Well enough," Mary answered going to the fridge to get out the ham sandwich ingredients. "Soon as I finish lunch I'm going to check with the hospital and with Stan," she told her mother.

"All right," Jinx replied. She paused a moment. "Let me know how Marshall is doing."

"I will. First I need to find out myself," Mary answered pouring her self a cup of coffee.

Arriving at the federal building Mary found Stan busily at work in his office. "Find out anything yet?" she asked. Moving to where she could read over his shoulder.

Stan wearily turned around to look at. her. "There doesn't seem to be any suspicious change in his witnesses' status. I'm still trying to get into his encrypted files," the older marshal replied.

"Good luck on breaking the encryption," Mary commented. "Have you gotten in touch with Marshall's family?"

"I left them a voice mail but I haven't heard back from them yet. I did talk to the WITSEC chief and let him know about Marshall. He's sending us a temporary replacement for now. But we still need to check out each of his witnesses individually to make sure nothing falls through the cracks," Stan answered.

She nodded and switched on her own computer. "I called the hospital and they wouldn't tell me anything," she complained.

"HIPPA rules, good at protecting the patient's privacy. But can be hard to get past at times," Stan said. "Makes it good when it comes to WITSEC.. And also good since it limits who has access to Marshall."

"Do you think who attacked Marshall will try again?" Mary wondered aloud.

"From the severity of the attack I'd say leaving Marshall alive wasn't his intention. So he could,' the older marshal replied. He got to feet and brought over a cup of coffee. "Here you look like could use it. I know I do."

"Thanks," she replied


	6. Chapter 6

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

The first thing Marshall became aware of was that his head hurt so bad that any movement made him feel nauseated. Cautiously opening his eyes he let the white ceiling come into focus as well as the sounds of the monitoring equipment. He had apparently ended up in a hospital with no memory as to why. Although his side also hurt, he didn't think he'd gotten shot unless it was to his head. Lifting up a hand he felt the bandages and then let his hand fall back onto the bed. Trying to figure out what happened took too much effort and he let his eyes drift slowly closed.

One of the nurses had just entered the room to do a routine check on he r patient when she saw his lift his hand. Hurrying over to the bed she said, "How are you feeling, Mr. Mann?"

Marshall slowly opened his eyes and attempted to sit up at the sound of the voice. That was a mistake because he could immediately feel the bile rising in his throat. "Sick," he gasped.

She was quick to grab a basin and hold it under his mouth as he gagged and retched bringing up a small amount of bile from his otherwise empty stomach. Once the attack appeared to be over she gave him a sip of water to rinse out his mouth and then set aside the basin. Carefully easing the young man back against the pillows, she said, "I'll have the doctor order something for the nausea. Are you in any pain?"

"Head…hurts," Marshall replied.

"Well, I'll see if I can take care of that right now. Be right back," the nurse said and turned to head for the door.

It was nearly 10:00pm and Bobby was in his office reviewing the progress of his homicide investigation. So far the girl remained unidentified, her fingerprints failing to come up with any matches. The next step would probably be to release her photo or an artist's rendering to the local papers. He'd also had samples of the victim's DNA to the state crime lab but they were backlogged with high priority cases and it would be several days before they could run the tests.

Hearing the phone ring, he quickly answered it saying, "Albuquerque PD, detective Bobby Dershowitz."

"Detective, this is Dr. Anitra Featherstone at the Albuquerque Medical Center. You left a message wanting to be informed when Marshall Mann regained consciousness," the crisp voice on the other end of the line said.

"Yes, I did. Is he able to talk?" Bobby asked.

The neurosurgeon paused and said, "I'll let you be the judge of that. He's in the Surgical Intensive Care unit on the fourth floor."

Dershowitz quickly ended the call and grabbed his jacket heading out the door. He had his doubts that Mann would have anything remotely useful to tell him. But he still had to find out anyway.

Arriving at the SICU the detective was met bay a stern looking Native American woman whom her assumed to be Dr. Featherstone. Pulling out his badge he started to introduce himself.

"You can put that away, Detective. I know who you are.," the woman interrupted. "I will let you talk to Mr. Mann but bear in mind that he's not been conscious for very long. I don't him upset. Do…I…make…myself…clear?" She carefully pronounced each word as she led him down a corridor to a room near the end of it..

Dershowitz knew that she was gonna be a force to be reckoned with if he got on her bad side. _Sort of like Mary Shannon in scrubs_ he thought briefly as he pushed opened the door.

"Remember what I said, Detective. I'm giving you five minutes and then you're out of there," Dr. Featherstone warned.

Bobby had seen how bad Marshall Mann looked lying in the alley and he decided that the lawman didn't look any better lying in the hospital bed. Moving to the bedside, he said, "hey, Hey, Marshall, I need to ask you some questions."

"Don't. know…what I can…tell you," Marshall slowly replied opening his eyes to look at Dershowitz.

"What's the last thing you remember, Marshall?" Bobby prompted.

He struggled to remember. "Driving...Mary…was with me…" Suddenly he struggled to sit up his voice growing frantic. "Mary! Where is she?"

"Easy, Marshall," the detective said, trying to prevent him from rising. "Mary's not here."

She's dead…That's why…you're here," the injured man said dully. Curling up on his side he began crying.

Suddenly the room was full of people and Dr. Featherstone's curt voice was saying, "Out, Detective. Now!

Putting away his notebook Bobby stepped outside in the hallway watching the activity in the room. He hadn't expected that reaction from the marshal

After a moment Dr. Featherstone joined him in the corridor. "What did you say to him in there?" she demanded the fury evident in her lowered voice.

"I simply asked what the last thing he remembered was and he answered driving someone where with his partner. And because I was there he's convinced himself that there was an accident and she was killed," Dershowitz answered.

The neurosurgeon wearily rubbed the back of her neck. "His brain is trying to rationalize the last thing he recalls with waking up in the hospital. However The only way to calm him down is to sedate him and I'd rather not do that.," she said, her voice losing its anger.

"I think that if he can see his partner and know she's okay he'll calm down," the detective suggested.

"All right. But if he hasn't calmed down in half an hour I _will_ sedate him. I'm taking a risk waiting that long. You need to step out the Unit to make your call," the doctor told Dershowitz

He nodded and quickly stepped outside the SICU to call the US Marshal.

When her cell phone rang, Mary glanced at the caller ID noting it was from Dershowitz. "Hey, Bobby. Any news on your investigation?" she asked.

"Mary, you need to get down her to the hospital right away. Marshall is…asking for you," Bobby replied.

"I'm on way," she replied, quickly grabbing her keys and purse. Getting in her car she found herself for the second time in less than twenty-four hours speeding towards the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Arriving at the medical center Mary made a direct beeline for the elevators and the Surgical Intensive Care. Unit.. Her instinct told her that there was something being left out of what Dershowitz had been saying and she sure as Hell wanted to find out what.. Still going full steam she marched off the elevator and nearly ran down the detective who'd wisely positioned himself by the elevators. Felling her arm grabbed she stopped in her tracks and hissed, "Let go of me!"

He shook his head and replied, "I can't do that until I talk to you first."

"Well, hurry und get it over with! Marshall wants to see me!"

He pulled her aside and said quietly, "Marshall thinks you're dead."

"Why would he think that? What the Hell did you say to him, Bobby?" Mary demanded her eyes widening in shock.

"You need to quiet down," Dershowitz warned. "I asked Marshall what the last thing he remembered. That he was driving somewhere with you and now he's in the hospital. So now he thinks there was an accident and you died and I was here to tell him."

"Oh, God," she murmured.

The neurosurgeon walked over to Mary and said, "The detective here thinks your presence will have a calming effect on Mr. Mann."

"I hope so," Mary replied. She took a deep breath and let it out. "Please take me to see him."

"Come with me," Dr Featherstone said and led into the SICU and to the soon to be familiar room. "If you can't get him to calm down quickly I may still have to sedate him and I really wouldn't have to do that. Because when he wakes up he'll still have unanswered questions and could get upset all over again."

Entering the room she approached the bed and reached out to touch his shoulder softly feeling it shaking from his sobs. Putting a smile on her face she looked down at him saying, "Hey, Doofus, you're quite the sight for sore eyes."

"Mary?" Marshall asked, his voice questioning, unbelieving his tears slowly subsiding. "Mary…"

"Who else calls you that? I'm not hurt. Look at me—see not a scratch," she said trying to get him to focus on her.

Mary," he said again his mind reaching out to grasp onto the voice and the name as though they were a lifeline holding his sanity together. Slowly turning to look at her he reached out to grasp her hand wanting the physical reassurance she was there and okay.

"Marshall, there was no accident. You were hurt trying to help someone.," she said firmly carefully grasping his hand back. It was the closest she could to giving him the reassuring hug he needed without fear of hurting him.

"Can't remember." he replied slowly, frustration in his voice.

"It doesn't matter," Mary said reassuringly. Reaching for a tissue she daubed at the tears still on his cheeks. "Only thing that matters is that you get better."

"So…tired…" he murmured his eyes fluttering closed.

"You need to sleep. I'll stay here with you for now." she said softly and gently stroked his hand watching in relief as he slowly drifted off into a healing sleep.

Dr. Featherstone had been watching from the doorway at the almost intimate scene. Taking note of the fact that the monitors readouts were settling back into more or less acceptable levels, she stepped forward to say, "I think we need to let him rest now."

"Can I stay? At least for a few minutes?" Mary asked quietly.

"You can. stay as long as you need to," the neurosurgeon replied as she turned to leave.

Dershowitz was still waiting by the Nurses' Station when he saw Dr. Featherstone approaching. Since she didn't seem to be out for blood, he guessed that Mary's presence had had a calming effect on Marshall. "Well?" he asked.

"You were right that she'd work just as well as any sedative I could have given Mr. Mann. How did you know?" the woman asked.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and replied. "They work together ; trust each other with their lives. Marshall believed he was responsible that she'd died in an accident and nothing you or I could say would make any difference. She _had_ to be the one to show him he was wrong."

The neurosurgeon nodded and was about to say more when her pager went off. Taking a quick check she said, "I'm being called to the ER." Even as she was speaking she was moving quickly toward the elevator.

Drawing a chair close to the edge of the bed Mary sat down and rested her arms on the bedrail as she watched Marshall sleep. He_ had_ to get better; she didn't want yet another partner. A temporary one while he was out on medical leave she could accept but not another permanent one. Unbidden her thoughts drifted back to the question he'd ask her when they were stranded and still thought they had a witness to protect. _Do I look like a hero to you?_ He hadn't then but there were times he struck her as being the quintessential Old West lawman minus the horse and the hat. It was sometime later that she finally stood up and leaned over to softly say, "sleep well Doofus." Giving his shoulder a gentle pat, she turned to reluctantly leave the room

Dershowitz hadn't left the SICU yet having decided to talk to Mary before he did so. Seeing her slowly approach he asked, "How is Marshall?"

"Sleeping. Don't you ever go home?" Mary asked in return.

"Not when I'm working. I have a homicide and an attempted one to solve, remember?' The detective reminded her.

"Still think they're connected?" the marshal asked.

"Looks like it. I suppose your guys did you own checking to see if it was related to his work.," Dershowitz replied.

"Yeah. But its classified.," Mary said and sighed. "I want to be angry with you for getting Marshall so upset but I really can't. since we had no idea he'd react that way. Just do me favor, Bobby. Keep all mention of any living witness out of the news."

"Since the girl's fingerprints came up empty I will probably be releasing her photo or a sketch to the media in an attempt on an ID. But any mention of a second person named or unnamed _will_ not becoming from me or the PD. We don't work that way," he replied.

"I'm holding you to that ," Mary said and yawned.

"Go home and get some sleep, Shannon," Bobby said tiredly. "You can come back in the morning."

"Yeah, the last thing Marshall need sis me falling asleep while I visit him," Mary agreed. Moving over to the Nurses' Station she said, "Please inform me if there is any change in Marshall Mann's condition," leaving her name and cell number.

The nurse quickly wrote down the information and replied, "I'll let Dr. Featherstone know your request."

"Thank you," Mary said as she headed for the elevator. Knowing somehow that the doctor wouldn't turn down the request;. After all they both had Marshall's recovery in mind.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Just a quick introduction of Marshall's parents. Next chapter will have more detail. I wanted to get this posted tonight._

_**Who protects The Protector?**_

Stan's phone rang about 7:00 that morning and he tiredly reached for it, saying, "This is Stan."

"This is US Marshal James Mann. I just got the message to call you concerning my son," the voice on the other end of the line said. "What's happened to Marshall?"

"He was assaulted Friday night and is currently in the Albuquerque Medical Center," Stan answered.

"How badly is he hurt?' James Mann asked.

"Pretty bad. The police believe he was going to the aid of a young woman who was found murdered. The incident is still under police investigation.," Stan told him.

"Then there's no connection to his work with the US Marshal Service?" The elder Mr. Mann asked.

"IT doesn't seem like it although the possibility hasn't been ruled out," Stan answered.

"My wife and I will be in Albuquerque sometime today. Depends on how quick we can leave and get a flight.. We've been out of town and just got back late last night," the other man explained.

"Give me a call when you get to Albuquerque and I'll pick you up at the airport.," Stan said and hung up the phone. Quickly getting dressed, he headed for the office.

Mary had spent a restless night and still felt tired when she arrived at the Federal Building. Taking the elevator up to the WITSEC division she entered to find Stan already at work. Dropping into her she pushed back her hair and said, "Bobby D called me from the hospital last night. Marshall woke up."

"That's good news. Isn't it?" Stan asked catching sight of her worried expression.

"Bobby tried to talk to him and the last thing Marshall recalls is that he was driving somewhere with me. And there was an accident. He thinks I-I died," Mary continued.

Stan set aside a list of names and walked over to her. "As I understand it short term memory loss is not uncommon with the type of head injury Marshall has. He could tell you that with all that medical knowledge of his."

"I know. He was just so lost and so vulnerable. I managed to get him to calm down and he was sleeping when I finally left," she said. "Were you able to get in touch with his parents?"

"I finally heard back this morning. They're flying in today and I'll pick them up at the airport," Stan answered. He picked up the list of names. "You can help me do a quick phone check on Marshall's witnesses and anything sends up a red flag we'll pay a personal visit."

"All right ," Mary answered. Picking up the phone she began calling the first name on the list, "Mr. Hollis, this is Mary Shepherd. I'm just calling to see how you were."

Stan picked up the on Marshall's desk and began dialing the first number on the list..

"Mrs. McCready, this is Mary Shepherd. I was just calling into see how you and your kids were. Nobody giving you any trouble?" Mary was talking on the phone.

"Do you count a fifteen-year-old boy hanging around Mallory too much?" the other woman asked.

"I'm afraid that I can't help you on that," Mary replied.

"May I ask a question?" Jess McCready asked.

"You can ask but I can't guarantee an answer," Mary replied.

"How come you're checking up on us instead of Marshall?' the other woman asked

Mary thought carefully before answering. "Marshall won't be working for awhile," she replied. "I can't really say anything more."

"Is it okay if the twins make him some cards? You can always come by and pick them up," the witness asked.

"Marshall would love to have anything from the twins. I'll be by in a few days. Even bring Mindy and Millie some crayons and markers," Mary replied .

"You'll be sure and tell Marshall that we all hope he gets better soon?" Mrs. McCready asked.

"I'll be sure and do that," the marshal answered. Hanging up the phone she crossed the name off the list. "That's the last one. Nobody reports anything out of the ordinary."

"Same here," Stan answered.

"Hey, do you mind if I go on back to the hospital and see how Marshall is doing?" Mary asked.

"Go ahead. I'll be over as soon as I get Marshall's parents," her supervisor replied.

"Thanks," she replied, quickly grabbing her purse and getting to her feet.

It was late in the afternoon when Stan's phone rang and he quickly answered it. "This is Stan."

"James Mann. You said to call you when we landed in Albuquerque.," the voice on the other end said.

"I'm on my way," Stan replied and hung up the phone. Quickly grabbing his jacket he headed for the elevator.

Reaching the airport Stan found the couple waiting in the small arrivals' lounge. "Marshal, Mrs. Mann, I'm Stan McQueen, he said in introduction.

"I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. Marshall speaks quite highly of you," James Mann said.

"Same here ," Stan replied holding out his hand to the woman. "An honor to meet you, Mrs. Mann."

Please call me Kathleen," she replied taking his hand in a firm grip. "Now could we please go see Marshall.

"Of course," Stan answered. "Would you want me to arrange hotel accommodations or will you be staying at Marshall's?"

"We'll let you know after we see our son, " Kathleen said firmly.

"The car is just outside. Let me help you with the luggage," Stan volunteered grabbing the handles of two of the wheeled bags. Once he had everything loaded up and his two passengers in the vehicle he headed for the medical center.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N I hope this answers any questions as to how the witness knew something was not right with Marshall._

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

As soon as she arrived at the medical center Mary headed for the SICU . Upon entering the Unit she quickly passed the people anxiously awaiting the chance to see friends or loved ones and approached the Nurses' Station. Getting the attention of the student nurse on duty she said, "I'm Mary Shannon. I'm here to see Marshall Mann."

The nurse quickly checked through the lists of approved visitors for the patients until she came to Marshall's. "Dr. Featherstone left her approval and a notation not to tire him out when you visit," she told Mary.

"Don't worry, I won't. Thanks," Mary said and turned to head down the corridor to Marshall's room. Peering in the doorway she could tell that he was asleep so she silently entered and took a seat in the chair being very careful not to wake him. As she sat there gazing at her partner she had to admit that he was looking better than he had last night.

Marshall slowly awakened, becoming aware that he was not alone in the room. Carefully turning his head his gaze landed on his visitor and he softly said, "Hey," his voice slightly raspy from the dryness of his throat.

At the sound of his voice Mary was instantly on her feet and moving closer to the bed. "Hey yourself, Doofus. You need anything?" she said in return.

"Thirsty…a little water," the young man said making an effort to clear his throat. "Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Mary joked reaching for the pitcher and the glass with the bendable straw. "Need some help sitting up to drink?"

"Marshall nodded and she eased her free hand under his shoulders holding him up enough so that he could drink without choking. Once he'd had enough he pushed away the glass. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," his partner said replacing the glass and helping him to lie back down. "Better now?"

"Much," Marshall replied, his voice stronger. "How long have you been here?"

"Several hours. Just watching you sleep. It's good to see you just sleeping. You really had me scared for awhile, Doofus," Mary said softly..

"Sorry. Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.

"It's Sunday afternoon. Stan and I checked out your witnesses and nobody reported anything out of the ordinary," she answered.

"Had to make sure that this has nothing to do with my job and WITSEC?" Marshall asked.

"You know we did. You'd be doing the same thing if it was me in that hospital bed," Mary reminded him. "Oh, Jess McCready said there's been a teenaged boy hanging around Mallory way too much"

Marshall chuckled and replied, "She's lucky it's not a whole herd of teenaged boys. That girl is the spittin' image of Miley Cyrus."

"I didn't know you watched _Hannah Montana_," his partner asked with raised eyebrows.

"It's been on the TV a time or two when I've been at Jess'," Marshall explained. You know Miley's daddy is a pretty good singer in his own right, I met him once before I joined the Marshall Service. I was makin' a little extra money working security at concerts."

"Marshall, you just keep unfolding like a flower," Mary said with a slight smile.

"Been watching _The X-Files_? That's what you're deliberately misquoting," he pointed out.

"You try being stuck keeping watch over a witness who can't sleep and insists on watching _that _show all night," Mary retorted. "Something is bound to stick."

"Been there. Done that. Only in my case it was _Baywatch_," he said in return.

"And I'll just bet _you_ watched it right along with your witness," Mary teased.

"You're getting no comment from me on that," her partner stated.

"Hey, Marshall, Jess McCready asked why I was doing the checking," Mary said after a moment..

"What did you tell her?" Marshall asked.

"Just that you wouldn't be working for a while. I didn't go into any details. But she knew something wasn't right," his partner answered.

Marshall sighed. "Jess is very perceptive—she has to be. This is her third try at relocation. Somehow the bastard always finds out where she and the kids are. She knows if I was going on vacation I'd gave her a date when I'd be checking in again. And anything else I'd inform her personally of my absence.. There are very few people Jess trusts anymore. Luckily she hasn't lost faith in WITSEC Keeping them safe,"

"Well, anyway, you'll be getting cards from the twins," Mary said.

"I can't wait to see what they come up with. Both girls are quite unique little artists," Marshall answered.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Stan asked sticking his head in the door.

"Nothing really, Marshall saidlooking over at Mary.

"Well, I'd better be going. Looks like you've got company. I'll see you later, Doofus," Mary said, getting to her feet and moving toward the door to admit the woman who was obviously impatient to be inside and her husband. Looking at them both, she knew they just had to be Marshall's parents. The man was just as tall although twenty-thirty pounds heavier and bore a striking resemblance to his son. In the woman she could see the same blue eyes and swept back hair.

Hey, wait a minute," Marshall called out to her. I want you to meet my folks; Marshal James and Kathleen Mann. Mom, Dad, this is my partner Mary Shannon."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mary. Marshall has told us a lot about you," Kathleen said.

"All good I hope," Mary said, pausing to shake the tall elegant woman's hand.

"It is," Kathleen assured her. Moving past Mary she quickly took the vacated chair.

"They shouldn't have called you," Marshall was saying.

"Yes, they should have," Kathleen said firmly taking his hand. "How are you feeling Son?"

"They tell me I'll survive," Marshall replied giving her a slight smile "I've heard it said you can't keep a good Mann down."

"Marshall James Mann, this is no time to joke," Kathleen scolded him lightly. " And why does your partner call you Doofus?"

"It's a long story, Mom," he replied.

Stan looked over at James Mann, "It looks like Marshall is in good hands so I'll be leaving. Still want me to make hotel arrangements?" he asked.

"Someplace close by here," Kathleen spoke up.

"You heard the boss," James told Stan.

"Indeed I did," Stan replied. "I'll also make arrangements for a car too." Leaving Marshall alone with his visitors he headed off to make the necessary arrangements.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

About ten minutes later Stan returned to the room to say, "It's all arranged. You have reservations at the _Ranchero DeLux Motor Lodge_ which is only two miles from here as per request. The name doesn't sound like much but it's the only decent place close by. I've also made arrangements for a rental car to be delivered there."

"I doubt we'll be spending much time there anyway," James Mann commented.

"Thank you," Kathleen told Stan.

As much as Marshall had enjoyed his visit with Mary, it had tired him out and his head was beginning to hurt. Looking at his parents, he suggested, "Hey, why don't you let Stan take you to the motel to go get settled in and then grab something to eat?"

"Sounds like a good idea," Stan quickly cut in catching onto the subtle plea in the younger man's statement. "I think Marshall's probably due a visit from his doctor so you'd have to leave anyway."

"You take care and I'll be back later," Kathleen said to her son leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"I think I'm just gonna take a little nap while you're gone," Marshall said. He yawned and closed his eyes for emphasis.

"I believe that's our cue to exit," Stan said quietly firmly guiding the couple out of the room.

"I want to have a talk with his doctor," James was saying as they stepped out into the corridor.

"She'll probably still be around when you get back here," Stan replied quickly leading them out of the SICU.

As they were waiting for the elevator, Marshall's father said, "Now what exactly happened to our son?"

"Early Saturday morning Marshall was found unconscious in an alley near the body of a young murder victim. His assault _is _being thoroughly investigated by the local PD," Stan explained. "I can give you the name of the lead detective if you want to find out more,"

"Give me the name," James Mann decided.

"His name is Bobby Dershowitz and he's worked several local cases with Marshall and his partner. I know he _will _give the investigation his fullest attention," Stan answered.

"Marshall looks so bad," Kathleen murmured her careful composure disintegrating into worry

"He's alive, Kath. That's all that matters right now," James quietly reminded her.

Left alone Marshall tried to relax and go back to sleep but his headache wasn't going to let him. So after a couple of minutes he gave up and reached for the call bell.

About a minute later a nurse was in the room asking, "What do you need, Mr. Mann?"

"Something for my head. It's starting to hurt really badly" he replied.

"I'll be right back," the nurse said hurrying out. A moment later she was back with the painkiller which she injected into the IV.

"Thanks, Marshall told her as he felt the pain beginning to ease.

"I'll make a note in your chart about the headache. Dr. Featherstone wants to know how often you're having them and how severe. On a scale of one to ten how bad was it?" she asked.

"Seven—at its worst," the young man answered.

She made a quick notation on a pad sticking it back in her pocket. and then stepped into the bathroom to retrieve a cool damp washcloth which she placed on his forehead saying, "This should make you feel better."

"Yeah," Marshall said and watched her leave.

Fifteen minutes later the door opened to admit the neurosurgeon chart in hand. Walking over to the bed she said, "Mr. Mann, I'm Dr. Anitra Featherstone. How are you feeling right now?"

"Better. Headache's easing up," he replied.

"Any nausea, vision disturbances?" Dr. Featherstone asked pulling out her penlight to shine in his eyes.

"No and no," Marshall answered, making an attempt to sit up in the bed.

"That's good," she commented checking his eyes. "Your pupil response is satisfactory. However headaches aren't all that common with traumatic head injuries. If additional symptoms develop you need to tell someone."

"I will," he replied.

"I was planning on getting you up and walking tonight. But that can wait if you're not feeling up to it," The neurosurgeon said.

"I really need to get out of here. Have my work to get back to," Marshall told her.

She shook her head sternly and said, I'm afraid you're not going back to work just yet. When you were injured you sustained an epidural hematoma. That is--,"

"A blood clot which forms between the skull and the dura matter," Marshall interrupted. At her quizzical expression he added, "I like to read a lot."

Dr. Featherstone regarded him with folded arms and calmly continued, "Then you know how serious that can be. The clot was most likely caused by the depressed skull fracture you received. As soon you're transferred out of the SICU I want to keep you admitted for at least a few more days to see how well you're recovering. I hope you're smart enough not to try walking out of here AMA."

"I can't even remember why I'm in here," he said, sounding frustrated.

"And you probably never will clearly. Short term memory loss is always to be expected with head injuries like yours. It may take a couple of days to determine how much you did lose," the doctor said. "I'll be back later to see if you feel up to taking that walk. Meanwhile get some rest." PIcking up the chart she headed for the door.

"Marshall sighed and settled back against the pillows to lie just staring at the ceiling and making a half hearted attempt to distract himself by counting the holes.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N Thanks to all who are reveiwing. As for my "medical Knowlege" I knew all those years of watching ER would come in handy. As for fic I normally write emdical dramas. Basically my method is part imagination and part research and hope for te best._

_**Who Protects The protector?**_

Marshall has made up his mind that by the time the doctor returned he was going to try to take that walk. Carefully sitting straight up in bed he groaned as the movement made itself known in his sore side. "Damn it!" he cursed softly as he waited for the pain to subside.

It was a little over thirty minutes later when Dr. Featherstone returned, still looking all business but decidedly rumpled. "How are you feeling now, Mr. Mann?" she inquired standing by the bed with her arms folded.

"Bored. I like to read and I have _nothing_ to read," he stated trying his best not to sound like whiney little boy.

"So do you feel up to that walk yet?" the neurosurgeon asked.

"Yeah," He answered.

"Okay. I'll send in a couple of big strong guys from Physio to help you up and about since I doubt you're going to be all that steady on your feet," she told him. "I'll see if I can have someone get you a magazine or two from the waiting room."

"Thanks," Marshall replied.

"You get the magazines after I see how well you do being up and about," Dr. Featherstone said firmly as she headed for the door.

It was about ten minutes later when the door opened again to admit a nurse and two young men that Marshall suspected should be on the _WWE_ instead of working in a hospital. "Mr. Mann, meet Mike and Roy. They're here to help you out if you need it," the nurse said.

"Ready to get up?" Mike asked.

"I think so," Marshall answered. He started to push aside the blanket and sheet.

"Just a minute," The nurse said reaching in a pocket of her scrubs and pulling out a pair of the disposable booties. "WE can't have you going around barefooted"

"What about the gown? There are other parts of me I don't exactly want to have _bared_," the patient said.

"Relax. You'll see it covers up everything that needs to be covered," she said and carefully slipped the booties on his feet. "The IV pole goes with you on the walk."

Now where am I going on this excursion?" Marshall asked.

"Just down to the beginning of the corridor and back to your room if you can manage that far. Mike and Roy are going to be on other side of you just in case," the nurse answered.

Marshall carefully swung his feet to the floor grasping the foot of the bed with one hand and the IV pole with the other. Taking a deep breath he let it out and eased himself to his feet ignoring the sudden pain in his side. For a moment he just stood where he was letting himself regain his equilibrium.

"You all right?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah. Just getting used to being on my feet again. Letting go of the bed he took several unsteady steps forward fully aware of the two men moving along at his side.

"Mr. Mann, if you start to feel dizzy or anything just let us know, okay? You don't need to try and overdo your first attempt," the nurse cautioned.

Marshall just nodded concentrating on putting on foot in front of the other as he made his slow way to the door.

"You're doing good," she said encouragingly.

He had made it almost to the middle of the corridor when the room suddenly spun dizzily and his vision started to dim. He knew he was going to go down fast and reflexively clutched the IV pole to keep himself upright. "Whoa…"

The nurse had been watching her patient's every move and watched as he began to suddenly sway. "Mike, Roy! Grab him!" she ordered while going to get the wheelchair that was fortunately parked nearby.

Having checked into the motel and finished their meal Stan arrived back at the SICU with Marshall's parents at precisely the wrong time. Seeing her son slumped in the wheelchair and surrounded by a crowd of medical personnel, she exclaimed, "Marshall!" and immediately started toward him only to be gently held back by Stan and her husband.

"Easy, Kathleen" James was saying as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's see what his doctor has to say." He was leading her toward the couch as he spoke..

"Let's get him back to his room," the nurse was saying. She looked up at another nurse. "Page Dr. Featherstone."

Marshall was beginning to come around again by the time they had him back in his room. Wearily he let himself be helped to bed and slumped back against the pillows waiting for the now slight feeling of dizziness to pass. "Looks like that didn't go so well," he said, looking up at the nurse.

"Looks that way," she agreed. Now I'm going to take a quick check of your vital signs while we wait fro Dr Featherstone to arrive," She was already reaching for his wrist. "Do feel nauseous or dizzy?"

"Just a little dizzy," he replied. "Not as bad as it was though."

"That's good," The nurse commented.

Dr Featherstone was in the room in a matter of minutes asking "What happened?"

"He experienced what appeared to be a syncopal episode and is complaining of some slight dizziness," the nurse replied moving away from the bed to speak quietly with the doctor.

"What are his vital signs?" the neurosurgeon asked.

"Pulse was 110, BP 100 over 80 and resps 15. He did regain consciousness once he got in the room. Approximate duration of LOC was three to four minutes," the younger woman replied.

Dr. Featherstone moved to Marshall's side and pulling out her penlight shined it in his eyes. "Your pupils are reacting normally. Still dizzy?"

"Some. Not so bad if I stay still," he replied.

"Well, let's see if it goes away on its own first before I order anything for it. If you're still experiencing it I'll be back to check you again. And go from there," the doctor said.

"Does that mean I don't get the magazine?" Marshall asked, managing to sound disappointed.

She looked at him quizzically and asked, "Do you honestly think you could read it?"

"Well, I could save it for later," he hinted trying to give her an appealing expression in his blue eyes.

"You can have it _later_," the neurosurgeon said firmly refusing to be drawn in by the puppy dog eyes. Meanwhile I have been informed. That your parents are waiting to talk with me."

Marshall reached up to cover his eyes with his hand a stricken expression on his face. I really really hope she didn't see me pass out. She has a tendency to worry a lot about me at times.," he said.

"Sounds like a typical mother," Dr. Featherstone commented. "Anything _you _want me to tell her just in case.?"

"That I'm okay.," Marshall answered ."Really I am."

"I'll see what I can do," the doctor said heading for the door.

I'll be back in a few minutes to se e how you're doing," the nurse said as she also headed for the door.

Stepping into the waiting area Dr. Featherstone immediately recognized Stan and headed toward him and the couple sitting on the couch. "I'm Dr. Anitra Featherstone, Marshall's primary care physician," she said in introduction.

"How is he? We saw him in the hallway," Kathleen said.

"Marshall said to tell you that _he's _okay. This was the first time I've had him up and walking about since he was brought here and he just did a little too much," the neurosurgeon explained, taking a seat in a chair across from them.

James Mann spoke up, "How badly is our son injured, Doctor?"

She faced him levelly and replied, ''When Marshall was attacked, he sustained a depressed skull fracture and I had to operate to remove a blood clot at the site of the fracture. While both can be life threatening at times, your son is awake and alert to people and surrounding He's also responding very well to treatment," the neurosurgeon answered.

"When can we see him?" Kathleen asked.

"He's resting right now so I'd prefer you wait until the morning. Is there a number we can have in case we need to reach you for any reason?" the doctor replied.

James Mann reached in his pocket for a business card and handed it over. "It has my cell number on it," he pointed out..

"US Marshall James Mann?" Dr. Featherstone read off. "I understand that Marshall is also a marshal."

"Like father like son," Kathleen said proudly.

The doctor quickly scribbled down her own number and handed it over. Please don't hesitate to call if you have any questions and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, Now if you'll please excuse me I have other patients to attend to," she said getting to her feet.

"Thank you, Doctor," the elder Mann said, pocketing the number. And watching her leave.

"Come on, I'll drive you back to the motel. The rental car should be delivered in the morning," Stan told them.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

When her alarm went off the next morning Mary resisted the urge to hit the snooze button and instead reluctantly dragged herself out of bed in search of caffeine before getting ready to head for work. Finding Jinx and Brandi no where in sight she was relieved to discover they'd left her part of a pot of coffee. As she sat sipping the beverage she mentally worked out her agenda for the day which included making it to the hospital to see Marshall.

Finishing off the coffee, the young woman hurried to shower and get dressed, leaving the house a few minutes later than usual. After a quick stop for a takeout breakfast and coffee for her and Stan she pulled into the Federal building parking lot.

The older marshal was waiting when Mary keyed herself in carefully balancing the coffee tray and take out bag in one hand. Giving her just enough time to set it all on her desk he said, "I need to talk to you. Right now."

"What is it, Stan? Marshall?" she asked anxiously eyeing the serious expression on his face.

Stan sighed and said, "Marshall was doing okay when I left to take his parents back to their motel. Have you seen the paper this morning?"

"Not yet. Why?" she asked in return.

"Take a look at page two," he replied handing her the already opened newspaper.

"Am I missing the latest gossip on Paris and Brittany?" Mary joked.

"Just read it," her supervisor instructed.

"I see that Bobby D got a picture of his homicide victim into it. She looks so damn young too," Mary said a little sadly looking at the young woman who appeared to be no older than a teenager.

"Check out the item beside it," Stan instructed.

_According to unconfirmed sources the second victim of the assault Friday night remains in Albuquerque Medical Center in unknown condition. Name being withheld at request of police_. She quickly read silently. 'What the Hell?"

"That's what I thought too," Stan interrupted. "Its all just newspeak for _We don't know a damned thing so lets print it anyway."_

"He promised! He stood right there and promised that there wouldn't be any mention of Marshall in the paper. And now it's right here in black and white! I'm going to kill him! Slowly painfully kill him!" Mary was ranting.

"Hey! Calm down and listen for a minute!" Stan said, trying to get her attention.

"What?" her voice was quieter but obviously still angry.

"Have you ever known Dershowitz to deliberately go against his word? All _he _wants to do is identify his homicide victim and solve the case. _He_ wouldn't have any reason to mention Marshall however indirectly," the older marshal pointed out.

"Well, if he did then he'd better have a damned good excuse. And by God I'm going to find out," Mary declared reaching for the phone.

Stan was quick to intercept her saying, "I think I'd better make that call. You're just a little too upset to be civil."

"Damn right I'm upset and mad," Mary responded.

Just as Stan was about to make the phone call it abruptly rang and he quickly picked up the receiver saying, "You've got Stan."

"McQueen, I thought there was to be no mention of Marshall in the newspaper," James Mann said icily.

"I have no idea why that even made it to the paper. And I will speak to Detective Dershowitz concerning that very thing. You have my word," Stan replied.

"Well, I certainly hope so. Now my wife is upset and she worries enough about Marshall as it is," the US marshal replied.

"Did the rental car arrive?" Stan asked.

"It did. We're on our way back to the hospital right now," James Mann answered.

"I'll let you know what Detective Dershowitz had to say," Stan said and hung up the phone.

"Marshall's parents pissed off about the bit in the paper?" Mary asked.

"His father certainly is," Stan answered.

"Hey, I brought you a coffee," she said suddenly remembering the tray on her desk.

"Thanks," Stan replied taking the proffered beverage. "The temporary replacement I requested for Marshall should be arriving this afternoon."

"Any idea who?" Mary asked.

"No. But please do your best to get along, okay? I know you can be a little difficult to work with at times," the older marshal said diplomatically.

"Me?" Mary asked innocently.

"Yes you. I'm surprised that Marshall lasted this long. But then he can give back as good as he gets from you," Stan replied.

She pulled the breakfast burrito out of the sack and unwrapped it. "I'm going to stop by the hospital for a bit when I go check on witnesses. I need to stop and get art supplies for Jess McCready's twins," she said and took a bite of the food.

"I'm still working on who cover's which of Marshall's witnesses but I'm putting Jess with you. She knows you well enough for it to work," Stan decided.

"All right. That way I can keep Marshall up to date on how the family is," Mary replied.

The phone rang again and Stan was quick to answer it. "You've got Stan"

"Has Mary seen the paper yet?" Dershowitz asked.

"She has. Now do you have any idea why my marshal was mentioned indirectly in the paper?" Stan asked.

"Look, I'm as surprised as you both are. _My_ press release only mentioned the girl," Bobby answered.

"Well, Mary's about ready to tear you a new one and Marshall's family is in town. So you have an assistant director in the Marshal Service on your bad side," Stan warned.

"It had to be someone from the paper with a police scanner. Because if the leak came from the PD you can bet whoever did it will regret the day once I get my hands on them," the detective said.

"Better you than Mary. Marshall once compared her to a pit bull once she gets all riled up," Stan answered.

"I can certainly believe that," Dershowitz said and chuckled.

"Just do us all a favor and catch whoever's responsible for the attack on Marshall," Stan said tiredly.

"I'm working on it," Bobby answered and hung up the phone.

"A pit bull, huh?' Mary asked, looking to Stan.

"Yes, a pit bull. As I recall it was after you guys were in that firefight with the gentlemen who weren't taking very kindly to their bookkeeper spilling the beans on illegal activities," he answered.

"At least nobody got hurt that time," Mary commented her mind going back to the seemingly routine witness transfer that went terribly wrong.

"The guys who dared take you on didn't get off so lucky," Stan reminded her of the earlier incident. "Time to get to work"


	13. Chapter 13

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Sometime later Mary shut off her computer and gathered up her purse. "Well, I'm outta here. I need to see Natalie Daniels and pick up the art supplies for Jess' kids," she announced.

"Be sure and be back here by 1:00," Stan reminded her. "And if you happen to see Marshall's father at the hospital tell him that I've already spoken to Dershowitz,"

"I'll tell Marshall that you send your love," Mary said teasingly as she headed for the door.

Stan simply shook his head in exasperation resignation and headed back to his office.

Mary's first stop was a 24/7 discount store located not far from the downtown. Pulling out her list she headed inside to get the items that Natalie Daniels had requested as well as the art supplies. Heading fro the art/office supply department she loaded into her cart a package of paper markers and a big box of crayons. That taken care of she finished the rest of her shopping and went to pay for her purchases.

Jess McCready was busily pulling the weeds in her small flower garden when she heard the car pull into her driveway. Getting to her feet, she dusted the dirt off her hands and walked over to see who it was. Recognizing the car and driver she said, "Hello, Mary."

"Hello, Jess. I got the art supplies for the twins," Mary replied reaching for the plastic bag on the seat beside her.

"Great. How much do I owe you?' the witness asked.

"Nothing. Call it my contribution to the twins' artistic endeavors," Mary answered as she got out of the car. "Hey, can I come inside so we can talk?"

"Certainly. I was just out working in the garden," Jess answered. "Would you like some coffee or tea or anything?"

"Coffee's fine," Mary answered following her into the house.

Inside the kitchen Jess busied herself at the stove while she asked, "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Despite her best efforts, her voice still held hints of concern wariness.

_And I don't blame her one bit_ Mary thought. Aloud she said, "I wanted to let you know that Stan assigned me to your case until Marshall is back to work."

"Mary, the assault victim in the paper is that Marshall?' The witness asked suddenly.

"Jess, you know I can't tell you either yes or no for his sake," Mary said taking the mug of coffee and taking a sip.

"He came to see us on Friday and looked okay except for being a little tired," she said taking a seat opposite from Mary. "Now you tell me he's going to be off work for sometime."

"Just to get me up to speed, how are you and the rest of the family?" Mary asked.

"Did you know I'm starting a new job today?" Jess asked.

"Marshall never mentioned it. Where are you going to be working?" the marshal inquired.

"Albuquerque Medical Center in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. It pays a lot better than the one I had and with the girls needing more and more things for school," the witness answered.

"Who's taking care of the girls while you're at work?" Mary questioned taking a sip of the coffee.

"A young woman named Fiona Llewellyan. She'll pick them up in the afternoon and stay until I come home at midnight. I'll be working the 3:00pm-11:00pm shift." Jess answered.

"Looks like you've got it all arranged then," Mary commented.

"The girls have been busy already," Mrs. McCready said, getting up and walking to the counter to pick up a handful of homemade cards.

"I'm sure Marshall will love them," Mary said taking the cards and slipping them into her pocket.

"Hey, will you tell Marshall that I hope he's doing okay," the other woman said.

"Jess, you can tell him yourself. Marshall is one of the patients in the SICU right now. _And _this goes no further than this room," Mary said firmly.

"I understand," the witness replied.

"And if any problems come up you come to me and _do not _I repeat _do not_ bother Marshall. As far as you are concerned he is just another patient where you work," Mary said firmly.

"I understand," Jess repeated.

"Good luck with the job," Mary said and prepared to leave.

"Thank you," the young woman replied.

Back in her car Mary crossed off a few items on her to do list and headed for Natalie Daniel's walk up apartment. The young woman had recently been in an automobile accident and was temporarily confined to her home so Mary was checking in fairly often and running errands. Finding the witness doing all right she left the stuff she'd picked up and made arrangements to get her to get the cast off in a couple of days before heading off to the hospital to check in on Marshall.

Having convinced his parents to go get some lunch, Marshall was sitting up in bed pushing around the rather unappetizing contents on his lunch tray when the door to his room. Glad for any reason to set the meal aside he greeted his visitor. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself, Doofus," Mary replied pulling the chair up to the bed and sitting down. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Hey, would you get me something to read. _Nobody _is giving me anything," he complained.

""I'll see what I can do," Mary replied. "Meanwhile eat your lunch."

"I'm not sure I can right now. Just looking at it is bad enough," Marshall stated.

"Hey, did you know that Jess McCready got herself a new job?" the young woman asked after a minute.

"I think so. But I don't remember exactly where. My memory is kind of fuzzy right now," he said in frustration.

"Don't worry about it right now," Mary told him. "Jess starts the 3:00-11:00 shift right her in the SICU. You're gonna be just another patient to her and not the marshal assigned to protect her. Stan has me assigned to her case until you're able to get back to work."

That's good. Better you than my replacement. I know Stan got some one to fill in during my absence. Do you know who?" Marshall asked.

"Not yet. Who ever Stan got is supposed to be arriving this afternoon," Mary said and reached into her pocket. "The twins made these for you."

"Great," Marshall said taking the cards and smiling a she looked at the childish drawings.

Mary watched him a moment noting the expression of enjoyment on his face. "Want me to keep these safe until you get moved into a different room?' she suggested.

"Yeah that would be good," he replied handing he r the cards. "In the meantime could you please get me something to read? The newspaper will be preferable."

_Not the paper_ Mary made a mental note and instead said, "How about I bring you some magazines next time I stop by?"

All right, he said reluctantly.

"At least try and eat the Jell-O. Surely they can't mess that up," Mary said "

"But its green," Marshall pointed out.

"So?" she asked.

"Did you know that one way to poison somebody with ethylene glycol is to mix it up in lime Jell-O? All there is is a slightly sweeter flavor," he said.

"That's it. No more _Forensic Files_. All it does is make you even more paranoid. Want me to see if it tastes like plain old Jell-O?" Mary offered.

"That's okay," he replied.

Their conversation was interrupted by Marshall's parents returning to the room. Mary quickly vacated the chair to Kathleen and said," I'll see you later, Doofus." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

"Marshall, you haven't eaten a bite of your lunch," Kathleen was saying.

"Not hungry," he replied.

"Not even the Jell-O?" his mother asked.

"I'll leave it to you to explain why," Mary said as she stepped out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Leaving Marshall to explain to his parents about poisoned lime Jell-o, Mary left the hospital. After making a quick stop for a takeout chicken salad and beverage she arrived at the Federal Building.

"How's Marshall?" Stan asked as soon as she'd let herself into the WITSEC division.

"Being exasperating," Mary answered, setting the salad and an iced tea on her desk. "He's begging for something to read and no one will give him anything. And I'm sure as Hell not going to let him see today's paper. He's also refused to eat lunch which I probably would too. And to top it off I now know how easy it is to poison a person by mixing anti-freeze in lime Jell-o."

Stan raised his eyebrows at the last statement and said, "I wonder what brought that up."

Mary shrugged her shoulders and speared her fork into her chicken salad. "Who knows? The hospital did give him lime Jell-o which is his least favorite. I doubt he thinks it's poisoned unless he's really scrambled his brain."

"Did you get a chance to talk to his father yet?" Stan asked.

"I didn't since I was still in with Marshall when they returned. Hey did you know that Jess McCready got on at Albuquerque Medical Center?" Mary replied.

"I don't think I recall Marshall actually mentioned that she did," the older marshal answered.

"She starts today in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit," Mary continued.

"Isn't that where Marshall is? Will that be a problem?" Stan asked.

"I don't think so. I made it perfectly clear to Jess that Marshall is just one of her patients. Any problems come up _I'm_ the one she goes to," Mary answered. "Otherwise I will do everything in my power to get her transferred to another department as far away as possible from Marshall."

"You told her you would do that?" Stan asked. "Isn't that overstepping your authority?"

"I didn't say a word about getting her transferred," the young woman replied. She looked over at the other desk noting that it was devoid of everything but the phone and computer. "What did you do with his stuff?"

"I put it away safe while his replacement has the desk." Stan replied. "I also sent the computer to IT where Gary can have fun trying to decipher the encrypted files. And find out if any little surprises have been added since the last time it was checked."

"You know how Marshall hates it when people mess with his computer," Mary commented.

"First of all it's not _his_ computer, its government property. "And if he's gonna encrypt files I need to know what's on those files," Stan pointed out.

"Well, that's what you get for hiring a paranoid techno geek," Mary joked.

"None of which were listed on his resume. Especially the _paranoid_ part," her supervisor replied.

Mary finished her lunch tossing the disposable bowl and fork into the trash took a sip of iced tea. After a minute she checked her watch saying, "It's almost 1:00."

Stan had been watching the door while he talked. He noticed the other man standing just outside the door and quickly pulled it open saying, "I'm Stan McQueen, and you must be—"

"US Marshal Maxwell J. Guiler," the other man replied.

"This is Inspector Mary Shannon which for security reasons goes by _Mary Sheperd_," Stan said making introductions.

Mary was taking in the newcomer's appearance and was quite less than impressed by what she saw. With his bright red hair and sunglasses he reminded her of n older heavier version of David Caruso. Dressed in an expensive cut suit silk shirt and colorful tie, he was almost the complete opposite of Marshall with his more casual and sometimes western themed apparel _At least Stan now has someone to talk ties with_ ran through her mind. "Hello, Marshal Guiler," she said shaking his hand.

"No need to stand on formality. Call me Max," Guiler replied. "I have the feeling that we're gonna be getting to know each other very well if you get what I mean."

_I think I do and not if I can help it_ Mary quickly decided. Aloud she said, "I prefer to keep everything between us strictly business with whom I work with," ignoring the raised eyebrows look from Stan.

"Why don't I show you around and you can have the desk right next to Mary's?" Stan suggested.

"Sounds like a plan, Stan," the newcomer replied and chuckled at his own rhyme.

_We've gotta get rid of this guy fast_ Mary tried to mentally hint to her supervisor, who not being a mind reader of course did not pick up on it..

"Mary, I have a list of witnesses that you can take Marshal Guiler and go check on. Show him who he's got temporary charge of." Stan was telling her.

"All right," she answered. Not at all thrilled with the assignment.

After giving Guiler a quick tour and leaving him with paperwork to fill out Stan ushered Mary into his office where he asked, "Are you planning to make it _strictly business _between you and Marshall from now on?"

"What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"Does that mean I'm no longer in danger of spilled coffee if I'm in the vicinity when you two start acting like juveniles and begin punching each other?" the older marshal inquired. "Or have him moping around for a week after you get mad and won't talk to him?"

Mary admitted, 'I'm not sure I can promise that."

Stan sighed and said, "I thought so. Well as long as this office and my sanity stays relatively intact I guess I can put up with it. Just do me a favor and work with this guy."

"Now where I have heard that before?" she inquired ignoring the look Stan was giving her.

"I'm serious, Mary. Make it work," Stan said firmly.

"Yeah, I'll try. But this guy reminds me of a slimly televangelist who's more interested in separating folks from their cash than their salvation. What do you know about this guy?'

"He's got a pretty fair record with the Marshal Service although nothing outstanding. This is his first assignment to WITSEC so just make sure he doesn't mess up," Stan answered.

"Like calling me _Shannon _instead of _Shapherd_?" Mary asked.

"Something like that. Here's the list of witnesses' Stan replied handing it over.

She took it and quickly scanned it frowning at one name. "You're giving him the Roberts' family?"

"You've already got your hands full with your own as well as some of Marshall's. Until I get everything straightened out, I've put in a request that we only be called in if no one else is available to take on any new witnesses," Stan pointed out.

"Okay. I'll grab Guiler and head out. He can finish his paperwork later," Mary decided.

"Meanwhile I'll put in a call to Dershowitz and see if he's found out who's leaked the news about Marshall to the paper. And see about coordinating a security detail if we have to," Stan replied, reaching for his phone.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

He sipped his beer while he sat in the darkened corner booth in the small pub. In front of him lay the local paper opened to page two, the picture of the girl now devoid of the _hooker_ makeup staring up at him. She looked so young so innocent and angelic and he felt his body responding at the memory of her. She'd been so soft and pliant in his hands, the sweet taste of her.

Regretfully she'd screamed when he'd brought out the knife and he'd heard the footsteps leaving him to quickly silence before showing her what he could really do. And so he'd fled disappointed that he'd not had his way as he'd left the all the other girls in the other cities. All the sweet tasting young things.

His gaze drifted briefly from the picture to the side item beside it and he clenched his fists as he read how the man had spoiled his fun was still alive in some hospital. One hand dropped to his pocket to caress the knife in it, a plan slowly forming in his mind. He would bide his time waiting to get revenge waiting for the chance to strike. In the meantime he'd change his appearance and go out hunting again tonight.

Albuquerque wasn't the best hunting ground he'd encountered but he was sure if he was patient and looked around, he'd find enough sweet young things to satisfy him. Taking a final sip of his beer, he left the mug and a handful of bills on the table. Getting to his feet, newspaper tucked under his arm he made his way to the men's room.

Bobby was in his office taking calls on the picture in the paper when the call from Stan came through. Quickly putting the marshal on hold, the detective ended the current call and said, "Nobody here is coming forward and admitting anything about the leak. Not that they would. I was just about to head on over to the paper and shake loose what I can. That night nobody thought to use a secure channel and a good scanner can pick up police EMT calls you name it."

"I'm more concerned about the fact that if whoever did it manages to find out where Marshall is, they'll make an attempt on his life," Stan told him.

"I know. So which one of us is going to provide security fro Mann?" Dershowitz asked.

"I'm ordering a guard to immediately be posted 24/7 for the duration of his hospital stay. We'll get a list of the hospital personnel and be checking IDs," Stan answered.

"If you need help with that guard let me know," Bobby told him.

"Have you made any progress on identifying the girl?" Stan asked.

"I've got a couple of leads I need to check out. The ME is basing her age on anything from fifteen to nineteen. That age range we could be looking at a runaway. Look, McQueen, I have to ask if there is any way she's one of yours."

"I don't recognize her is all I can say and I pretty much meet everyone coming into the Program," Stan answered.

"That's all I needed to know. The ME was able to get some foreign DNA from under her fingernails and CODIS popped out matches to rape/homicides of about twelve young women in four states," Dershowitz said. "Bastard must've heard your guy coming and didn't get that far with this one."

"And now he's made Albuquerque his hunting ground?" Stan asked.

"Looks like it. I'm going to send out the vic's picture to police jurisdictions nationwide and see if we get an ID. You don't want to know the sickening details of what he does. Just make sure anybody you got in that age range is safe."

"I'll get on it and the security on Marshall. You need any help catching this guy let me know."

"I was thinking of calling in an FBI profiler for advice. Unless the US Marshal Service has any of their own," Bobby answered.

"I think one of the Marshals is an ex-FBI profiler. I'll see if she's available," Stan answered. "Works out of the Kansas City office I know."

"Look I've got another call coming in but I'll keep you posted on the investigation," Dershowitz answered and ended the call.

Stan hung up the phone and then began dialing another number.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Kathleen had managed to persuade Marshall to have some other flavor of Jell-o with her _gentle_ persuasion consisting off _You are going to eat or I'll feed it to you myself!_.

Marshall having never actually ever won an argument with his mother sighed and gave in. "Okay. Can I have raspberry?" he asked the nurse who'd came in to collect the lunch tray.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied.

Kathleen quickly spoke up. "If you can please make it two raspberries," she said giving her son a _don't argue_ look.

"Two then," the nurse said and hurried out.

Marshall leaned back against the pillows and asked, "Satisfied?"

"You need to eat so you can regain your strength back," Kathleen replied. She reached into her purse and pulled out the newest issue of the _Reader's Digest. _If your doctor okays it I'll give you this _after_ you eat."

"Where did Dad disappear to?" Marshall asked idly.

"Off making phone calls. Had to call his office. He'll be back later," his mother answered.

"Here you are," the nurse said, returning to the room with a plastic spoon, napkin and two raspberry Jell-o cups in hand.

"Thank you," Kathleen replied taking them from her and setting them on the bed table. Handing Marshall the spoon and an opened cup. "Now. Eat.

Rather reluctantly the young man took a bite of the Jell-o and swallowed it waiting for a moment to see if it was going to upset his stomach. When it apparently didn't he took another bite and in a matter of minutes had finished off both cups. To his surprise he realized that he easily could've started on a third one.

"Want to try something else?" Mrs. Mann asked watching him set aside the cup and spoon.

"Maybe later," Marshall replied. "Magazine?"

"I said if it was okay with your doctor," Kathleen reminded him.

"You know she'll most likely say its okay," He replied, giving her his most appealing expression.

She lightly swatted his arm and said, "It's no use giving me the puppy dog eyes, Marshall James. I'm immune to your charm."

"Worth a try," he mumbled and settled back with a sulky expression on his face.

Dr. Featherstone had been in the SICU checking on her newest patient. A young man who had neglected to wear his helmet when he wrecked his motorcycle. It was highly unlikely that the patient would ever awaken from his coma. So plans were being made that once he recovered sufficiently to transfer him to a long time care facility.

After going over the latest notations in Marshall's chart she decided to check on him as well. "How are you doing this afternoon, Mr. Mann?" she inquired stepping into the room.

Marshall fixed her with a gaze and complained, "Nobody has brought me _anything_ to read."

"Marshall James Mann," Kathleen scolded. She looked over at the doctor. "If you do not want my son to be so cranky, let him have something to read."

"Well, I guess it does as long as it doesn't give you any headaches. If it does you can put it aside right then and there," the neurosurgeon conceded.

Marshall gave his mother a triumphant glance and held out his hand for the magazine. "Please?" he asked.

"I see on your chart that you had two cups of Jell-o. Keeping it down all right?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah," Marshall answered his attention already on the magazine.

"I think I'll step out for a few minutes and get some coffee," Mrs. Mann decided as she started to get up. "If he gives you anymore trouble let me know. He's not too big to be spanked."

"Mom!" Marshall cut in

"Then stop acting like you need one," Kathleen shot back. She leaned over and drew him into a hug softly murmuring as she rubbed his back. "I know it's not looking very good right now, Marshall but it will get better. You just have to keep telling yourself that."

He buried his face against her shoulder, the magazine forgotten as he said, "I'm trying, Mom, I'm trying. But it's just so hard sometimes." Held in her comforting embrace, he cried, letting himself give into his frustration and the fear that he wouldn't be able to return to the job he loved.

Dr. Featherstone silently stepped back and observed her patient. She knew from experience that for people used to be in control of their lives, relinquishing that control was often one of the hardest things to do. And she's gotten that impression from Marshall Mann. He was in a career where being in control was an absolute necessity and now both that control and his job had been taken away albeit temporarily.

After a few moments Kathleen gently helping her son lie back against the pillows and reached for a tissue to wipe his face. "Better?" she asked softly.

"I don't really know," he admitted. Catching sight of his doctor, his face flushed slightly.

The neurosurgeon smiled slightly and said, "I have news for you. Grown men _can_ and _do_ cry. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Marshall, I'm to go get that coffee now and go talk to your father," Mrs. Mann said, bending over to give him a kiss on his forehead. "You rest awhile and I'll be back later."

"Okay, Mom," he said tiredly.

Dr. Featherstone bent to pick up the discarded magazine and set it on the bedside table. "I do have some good news I think you'll like. If you don't have any setbacks I plan on having you transferred to the Med-Surg Unit in the morning."

"That news I like," Marshall said his expression definitely happier.

"I thought you would. Feel up to taking another walk later?" the doctor asked.

"I think so," her patient answered.

"This time let's see if you can make it all the way without fainting or feeling dizzy," she said. However both are not all that uncommon after effects considering the severity of your head injury."

"I know. I read. _A lot_," Marshall reminded her.

She folded her arms and regarded him quizzically. "And I've never seen a patient so obsessed with reading as you are," she said.

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Well it's something I _can_ do and I can't do much right now."

"Once you get in your new room you can probably have a phone and watch TV or listen to music. A few rooms are wifi assessable but I don't know which ones," the neurosurgeon replied. "For now you can read if you want to." Handing him the _Reader's Digest_ she headed for the door.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

In her Kansas City office US Marshal jasmine Weaver sat going through her email when the phone rang. Picking up the receiver she quickly answered it saying, "Waver here."

"This is Stan McQueen from the Albuquerque office. How soon can you fly down here?" the voice a the other end asked.

"Why would I want to go to Albuquerque?" the woman asked.

"I need you to work up a profile," Stan answered.

"You know I gave up that part of my life when I left the FBI. Now why would I want to do it again?" she asked.

"Because we apparently have a serial killer loose in Albuquerque," Stan explained.

"Shouldn't the local PD be calling in the BAU?"

"Look, Jas, I'd prefer it to be you. This is personal. One of my inspectors was attacked when he apparently went to the aid of one of the victims," Stan replied.

How bad?" she asked.

"Very bad. He had to have emergency surgery and has a skull fracture," was the reply. "So can you come down here and lend a hand?"

"I can for a few days. But owe me because I'll be missing Ethan's birthday party," Jasmine answered.

"You can get him something from New Mexico," Stan suggested.

"I think I can make the last flight out tonight. When I get there I'm going to want to see the crime scene and talk to the detective in charge of the investigation," the woman answered.

"I'll have everything arranged. Thanks, Jas. I really appreciate your help," Stan told her.

"Just as long as the FBI doesn't get pissy over me coming down. I'll let you know which flight I'm on," The woman said and hung up her phone.

By the time she and Guiler were headed off to check on the second witness on the list, Mary was beginning to feel grateful that Stan had given her the McCready family. On the first visit Guiler had turned out to be a total asshole, making the young woman uncomfortable with his fake charm. As she sped along the road, Mary decided that was time to give him a piece of her mind. "Listen up, Guiler. You may think you're God's gift to women but as far as I am concerned you are their worst nightmare! Some of these people have been through traumatizing situations. Now you can go in fake interest act nice and make weekly checks!" she said sharply.

"Sure. And why don't after we finish seeing all the witnesses have dinner and you can fill me in all about WITSEC?" Guiler suggested.

"Afraid not since I already made plans," she said shortly.

"Maybe next time?" he asked.

"And what part of _strictly business _didn't you understand?" the woman asked.

"That? I thought it was just for McQueen's benefit," The other marshal said feigning ignorance.

She ignored him and instead brought him up to speed on the witnesses. "Clay Randall and his wife Leesa—pronounced _Lee-s-a_. Clay works for a downtown department store and Leesa is a waitress. They've been in the Program for a year pending testimony against Leesa's former boss—a pharmacist who sold diluted cancer and other meds to finance his involvement with a pair of local drug dealers." Pulling into the parking lot at the apartment complex where the Randall's lived, she said, "Now just act nice and let me do the talking."

"You boss your other partner around like this?' the marshal asked.

"No. He usually knows what he's doing. Look working as a WITSEC inspector can take some finessing and a little BSing. Not every one is cut out for it," Mary said as she got out of the car.

Inside the apartment they were warmly greeted by Leesa who was already dressed in her waitress uniform of beige capri pants and black and white logo T-shirt. "Hello, Mary. Where's Marshall?" she asked.

Mary quickly gave the explanation she and Stan had came up with. Giving Guiler a glance she smoothly said, "Marshall was called away on a last minute assignment. This is Marshal Max Guiler who will be taking over your case in the interim. Guiler, this is Leesa Randall."

"Hello. Clay's at work so I'll let him know about the change in marshals," Leesa said, holding out her hand

"Any problems, Leesa?' Mary asked.

The witness smiled and said, "Not really. Not unless you count a new neighbor who prefers to play loud music 24/7."

"Not your favorite kind either?' Guiler spoke up.

"Nope. Neither Clay nor I are heavy metal fans. We mostly prefer country and oldies," the young woman answered. "Can I get you some coffee or anything?"

"Not today. Guiler and I really have to be going," Mary answered.

"Maybe next time?' Leesa asked.

"Maybe," the marshal answered. Motioning for Guiler to follow she headed for the door. Outside in the car she looked over at him. "Well, I'm impressed. You didn't make a move on her."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Although his side still hurt some when he moved around much Marshall was determined to be up and walking again as he didn't want anything standing in his way to being transferred from the SICU. That would get him one step closer to finally being out of the hospital and he didn't want to be spending any more time there than necessary. When he saw the nurse entering the room along with the same two escorts, he sat up pushing aside the sheet and blanket.

"How are you feeling this evening, Mr. Mann?" the nurse asked as she slipped the booties on his feet and made sure the IV line was untangled.

"Pretty good. I actually think I can make the distance this time," the patient answered.

"Well, if you start to feel dizzy or faint let us know," the nurse instructed.

"I will attempt to do so," Marshall answered as he got to his feet holding onto rail while he regained his equilibrium. "I'm ready."

"Just take it slow and easy," Jess answered.

The young man said nothing as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other making his slow way to the door. Stepping into the corridor he looked at the US Marshal standing just outside the door. "Bob? What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm supposed to be protecting _you_," Bob Lucas answered. At the stunned expression on Marshall's face he added, "Didn't you know?"

"No! I did not know! Now will somebody please tell me what the Hell is going on?" Marshall demanded unaware of his steadily rising voice. He stopped in his tracks holding onto the IV pole for support.

Jess McCready had just finished up in another patient's room when she heard the commotion in the corridor. Hurrying over she saw Marshall looking pale and unsteady. Placing a supportive hand on his back she could feel him trembling under her light touch. "Come on, Marshall. Let's get you back in bed," she said quietly.

"Not until I know what's going on," he said firmly.

"You can find out just as easily in your room and rest while you wait," the young woman was suggesting as she carefully led him back to the bed.

His head was beginning to pound by the time he reached the bed and collapsed on it closing his eyes. "Can I Please have a glass of water?" he requested without opening his eyes.

Mary had arrived at the SICU and headed directly for Marshall's room. Pushing past the marshal on duty outside the door, she stepping inside to see her partner lying in bed rubbing his forehead his pale face drawn tight with pain while a nurse was helping him sip from a straw. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked.

"Why wasn't I told I needed be guarded?" Marshall demanded making a feeble attempt to sit up.

_Oh, crap,_ Mary thought. "We didn't want to worry you," she said moving toward the bed.

"Whose idea was it? Yours or Stan's?" her partner asked.

"Mostly Stan's," she answered.

"Well, tell him I want to see him and find-" Suddenly his stomach lurched and he felt the bile rapidly rising in his throat. And he was abruptly miserably sick all over himself and the bed. Ignoring the audience in the room all he could do was sit doubled over as he continued to retch.

Jess was quick to take charge ordering, "Out, Mary. Now. And tell the desk I need some help in here."

Mary knowing she'd just be in the way quickly stepped out and went to inform the nurse' station. Returning to the room she stopped by the other marshal and demanded, "How did Marshall find out, Bob?"

"He saw me in the corridor and wanted to know what was going on," Bob Lucas replied. "Never expected him to react like that though."

Inside the room had drawn the privacy curtain and was quickly removing the soiled bed linen as she said, "Marshall, I'm going to page your doctor and let her know what happened."

"She gotta know? Make me stay…" he mumbled as the dry heaving finally subsided.

"Afraid so. You don't getting in trouble by not following orders do you?" she asked lightly.

"Guess…not," he replied pressing a hand to his aching head.

"Hurting badly?" she asked and at his nod continued, "As soon someone comes in to help I'll go see get you something for the pain."

"I hear you need some help in here," the nurse was saying as she quickly entered the room.

"Kate, could you please get Mr. Mann cleaned up and into a fresh gown while I go check on his meds fro the pain and nausea and call Dr. Featherstone?" Jess asked quietly.

"Sure. No problem," the nurse answered.

"Thanks. I think he'd be more comfortable with you doing it. He's an, um, friend of the family and it might be a little embarrassing if I did," Mrs. McCready explained gathering up the soiled bedcovers to carry to the laundry hamper.

Kate was already heading for the bathroom to grab a basin of warm water, soapy sponge and towels. "Heard you had a little bit of a sick stomach," she said setting the items on the bed table and reached to unsnap the gown.

Mary was standing just outside the door when she saw Jess she asked, "How is Marshall?"

"He got a little too upset over being kept in the dark," Jess answered. "I'm going to get him something for the nausea and his headache. You can probably go back in a bit as long as you promise not to upset him more. Unless he says "No" of course."

"I need to make a phone a phone call first," Mary told her.

The nurse nodded and went to check the patient's chart quickly locating the prescribed meds in the drug cabinet.

Mary quickly stepped outside the Unit and pulled out her cell phone hitting Stan's number on her speed dial. "Stan, we've got a _big_ problem. Marshall found out about the guard and is demanding an explanation now," she said.

"I'm on the way to pick up someone I requested to work on the case," her supervisor replied.

"Well, he's demanding to see _you_," the younger marshal pointed out.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. How did he find out?" Stan asked.

She sighed and answered, "He saw Bob Lucas in the corridor. Then in his room he ended up puking on himself."

"Damn," Stan swore softly. "That doesn't sound very good."

"He has no clear memory of the attack so he unfortunately overreacted to being put under guard and not knowing the reason why," Mary said quietly.

It didn't get long fro the nurses to get Marshall cleaned up and fresh linens on the bed. Jess injected the meds into his IV and asked, "Feeling better?"

"A little," the young man answered, the fast acting meds rapidly taking effect and making him drowsy.

"I paged Dr. Featherstone and she'll be here as soon as she can. Do you want me to let Mary back in as long as you don't get upset again?" Mrs. McCready asked.

"Yeah. Go ahead and send her in," Marshall answered.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

"I will but first I need to check your vital signs," Jess answered as she placed her fingers on his wrist. "Still feeling nauseated?"

"No. Thank goodness," Marshall replied.

The young quickly finished taking the readings and jotted them down frowning at the BP which was higher than it should have been. "Okay I'll tell Mary that she can come back in now. But if you end up getting upset again I'm reasonably certain that Dr. Featherstone will put an end to any and all visitors tonight," she warned.

"Thanks, Jess," Marshall told her.

"I'm just doing my job, same as you are," the nurse replied. Quickly stepping out of the room she was unsurprised to find Mary waiting not to far from the door.

"How's Marshall?" the young woman asked.

"He's resting comfortably for now," Jess answered. Giving the US Marshal a stern look she added, "You can go in as long as you don't get him upset again. Right now his physical well being is more important than you getting to visit. And _you_ know that."

Mary sighed and said, "I called Stan. Right now he's picking someone up at the airport and will be here as soon as possible." She pushed past Jess and stepped into the room moving to the side of the bed. "Feeling better, Doofus?"

"A little," Marshall replied, his pale face flushing slightly. "Sorry about…earlier-"

The young woman quickly cut him off saying, "There's nothing to be sorry for. _You_ didn't plan on being sick." She seated herself in the chair and reached out to grasp his hand. "Marshall, you just need to start getting better and not worry about anything."

"How's my replacement working out?" he asked.

"You mean _temporary_ replacement. He's already driving me crazy!" Mary exclaimed throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Now you know why I need you to get better so you can come back."

"And you've been with him something like five-six hours?" Marshall asked.

"Trust me it's long enough," she replied.

"I'm glad that you didn't make that quick a decision with me," he commented

"Well Stan said to make it work and frankly I was curious to see if it would work out with you" Mary admitted. Her tone turned serious. "Marshall, I've been doing some thinking about you mentioning an _accident_.. What is the last day you can recall?" She reached out to take his hand again.

"The fifteenth of September. What's today?"

"September twenty-second," his partner told him.

"I've been here since when? Marshall asked.

"Last Friday." She gripped his hand tighter and continued , "We _almost_ did have an accident on the fifteenth.. There was a grey late model pickup truck which ran us off the road slightly but you were able to get back on again with no trouble."

"Did we file a report?" the young man asked.

"No. Some miles down the road we saw where the car went off the side and down a steep ravine. There were already vehicles arriving on scene and we were behind schedule to pick up a witness for her court date," Mary explained. When we got back to the office you ran the plates on the truck which turned out to be registered to a guy from Las Vegas, NM who had his license suspended for multiple DUIs," Mary replied, trying to recall the events of the day.

"I recall a truck driving pretty erratically and then it clipped the passenger side," Marshall said slowly. He put a hand to his forehead. "Every thing else is just a blurry…blank."

"Don't let it bother you, Doofus," the young woman advised.

"Is Stan coming?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah. Had to pick up someone at the airport," Mary replied. "Hey, where are your parents tonight?"

"Dad had to fly home on business so Mom's driving him to the airport," Marshall answered and coughed slightly. "Could you please hand me that glass of water?"

"You okay?" she asked reaching the glass and holding it so he could sip through the straw.

He took a few sips of water than pushed it away. "Yeah. Throat was dry that's all," he assured her. "Thanks."

"Why don't you rest for awhile until Stan gets here?" Mary suggested noticing how pale and tired he looked.

"Good idea," he murmured closing his eyes sleepily. 'Wake me when Stan gets here."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Stan arrived half an hour later accompanied by a petite middle aged woman dressed in pink hat and pantsuit. Catching sight of Mary he quickly made introductions. "I'd like you to meet US Marshal Jasmine Weaver. Jas, this is inspector Mary Shannon."

"Hello," the newcomer said pleasantly and held out her hand.

"Hello," Mary said finding the grip surprisingly strong for such a small woman. Looking over at Stan she raised her eyebrows. "Jas?"

She smiled and replied, "Stan and I have known each other for a number of years although until two years ago I was with the FBI."

"Ms. Weaver is a trainer profiler and she's here to help Dershowitz by doing a profile of the killer," Stan explained.

"Does Bobby D know about this?" Mary asked.

"Yes. In fact it was his idea to call in for extra help. This guy has at least thirteen bodies to his name and we don't need the count to get any higher," her supervisor replied. "I suggested Jas since she was the best profiler ion the West Coast."

"Stan, why don't you give the detective a call and make sure he knows about setting up a meeting in the morning?" Ms. Weaver suggested.

"Good idea," he replied turning to Mary. "How's Marshall?"

"He was asleep when I stepped out to get some coffee a few minutes ago. But he is insisting he talk to you tonight," the young woman answered.

"Okay. It's not that late yet. Better we get this over with," Stan replied.

"You mind if I come in?" Jasmine asked.

"I'll let Marshall know you're here," Mary told them both as she headed toward her partner's room.

"Exactly what is your other inspector's name?" Jas asked.

"_Marshall_ Mann. Comes from a long line of US Marshals. In fact his father is one of the assistant directors," Stan explained.

"I see. James Mann is his father? I met him when I joined the service. His wife is a lovely person but he can be more than a bit intimidating," Ms. Weave commented.

Inside the room Mary moved over to the bed and gently shook his shoulder saying, "Hey, Doofus. Wake up."

He sleepily opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Stan here yet?" he asked and yawned.

"Yeah. Outside. He has a friend with him who'd like to come in while he talks with you," Mary answered.

"Who?" The young man asked.

"An ex FBI agent here to help Bobby D with catching the SOB who attacked you," she replied.

"Okay. They can both come in," Marshall decided.

"I'll be back in minute," Mary said and headed for the door.

"She seems to care a lot for her partner." Jas was saying.

"They've been working together nearly four years. And this isn't the first time she's nearly lost him," Stan replied.

"Marshall says you can both come in," Mary said as she approached the two marshals.

Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Featherstone. Stopping in front of the three law enforcement officers, she said, "I just got a chance to check Mr. Mann's chart and another incident like earlier can't be allowed to happen again."

"It won't. Marshall got upset because we were keeping the truth from him," Mary replied.

"Perhaps letting Mr. Mann know the truth will help him to accept it better," Ms. Weaver suggested.

"And who are you?" Dr. Featherstone asked.

"_Dr. Jasmine Weaver_—PhD in forensic Psychology and author of three books on the subject. So _I_ happen to know what I'm talking about," the older woman replied, drawing herself up to her full height.

"Dr. Anita Featherstone and Mr. Mann's primary care physician. I am going to check on him before _I _decide if anybody can go see him," the neurosurgeon said firmly and heeded for her patient's room.

Mary broke the sudden silence by saying to Jasmine, "You wanna bet that Marshall probably has at least one of your books in his possession?"

"Likes to read?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. His two main addictions—reading and trivia," the younger woman replied.

"Which can often go hand in hand," Ms. Weaver replied.

Inside the room Dr. Featherstone was having Mrs. McCready taking a new check of Marshall's vital signs noting in particular that the BP was starting to go back down. "That's better," she commented. "Okay, Mr. Mann I am giving your visitors no more than fifteen minutes and then everybody out. And _I _will have someone strictly enforcing it."

"All right," Marshall said in resignation.

"I'll check on you in the morning," the neurosurgeon was saying, "And then I'll decide if you get transferred out of here." She looked over at Jess. "_No_ more than fifteen minutes. Any longer and you can call security to have them thrown out."

"She's joking Right?" Marshall asked a little uncertainly.

"I _never _joke around when it comes to my patients," the doctor said firmly. Outside in the hallway she paused to tell the assembled group of marshals. "You have fifteen minutes."

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes…unless I get busy," Jess was saying as she helped Marshall to sit up in the bed.

"Please take your time," the young man replied as he watched her leave.

"I've got orders to call security if you over stay the fifteen minutes," Jess warned Mary as she stepped past her.

"Okay, I want to know exactly what is going on," Marshall was quick to say when he saw Mary and Stan enter the room.

"First I want you to meet US Marshal Jasmine Weaver. I invited her to help Dershowitz by coming up with a profile on the man who attacked you last Friday night. Jas, this is Marshall Mann the inspector I was telling you about," Stan said making introductions.

"Hello, Mr. Mann. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," she said moving over to shake the young man's hand.

"Jasmine Weaver? Are you _the_ Dr. Jasmine Weaver who wrote _Secrets of a Criminal Mind_?" Marshall asked recognizing the name.

"Why, yes I am. Your partner said you love reading." Jasmine answered.

_Told you so_ Mary mouthed to the older woman and tapped her watch for emphasis. "_We _have thirteen minutes left," she reminded her partner.

"Marshall, Friday night the police found you unconscious by the body of a young woman. From what could be determined is that you were apparently responding to some disturbance since your gun was found a few feet away. The criminology lab was able to identify DNA on the bodies as a match to that from at least a dozen murdered young women," Stan explained.

Marshall suddenly paled and placed a hand to his head. Mary was immediately concerned as she asked, "Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "I could've stopped him, couldn't I?" he slowly asked.

"I don't think so. He was too quick for you. And _you_ could've died from your injuries. The reason I had a marshal assigned to protect you is that the paper this morning had a brief article that you survived the attack," his supervisor was quick to say.

"It's right next to the picture of the murdered your woman. Neither your name nor this hospital was mentioned, " Mary added.

"Dershowitz is trying to track down who leaked the news to the paper," Stan told him.

"What about when I'm released?" Marshall asked.

"If we haven't apprehended the bastard then I'll assign a security detail to your home," Stan answered. "But let's see what happens by then."

"We'll get him, Marshall," Mary said reaching out to squeeze his hand. "He's not gonna get away with hurting you."

"Tomorrow I meet with the detective to work on a profile," Ms Weaver told him. "If I can find a copy of my book anywhere here in Albuquerque would you like an autographed copy?"

"I already have my own copy but I'd love an autographed one," Marshall replied. "I was going to attend your book signing in Santa Fe but had to work that day."

"I'll see what I can do," Jasmine replied.

"Hey, could I please be informed how the investigation is going?" the young man asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Stan replied. "But it's mainly Dershowitz's investigation."

"Goodnight, Doofus," Mary said, "and I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to reluctantly head for the door followed by the older two marshals

Kathleen arrived back in the SICU a few minutes later and asked, "How is Marshall?

"He's resting comfortably. However I'm afraid you can't go back there," the nurse on duty told her.

"And why not?" Mrs. Mann demanded.

Mrs. McCready quickly intercepted Kathleen explaining, "Dr. Featherstone ordered no more visitors for Mr. Mann for the rest of the evening."

"Not even his mother?" Kathleen asked sounding disappointed.

"I won't say anything if you want to tell Marshall "Good night." Just don't be too long," Jess replied.

"Is Marshall all right?" Mrs. Mann asked.

"He got a little too upset when he found out no one mentioned the armed guard assigned to him. Even though he can't remember what happened to him, he still wants to know," Mrs. McCready answered. "The doctor just thought he should rest and have nobody in to see him. His partner is not happy about the decision either."

Kathleen nodded and quietly made her way back to her son's room. Entering it she saw him lying with eyes closed. Making her way over to the bed, she reached for his hand.

At the touch her son stirred and opened his eyes asking, "How long have you been here?"

"I just arrived," Kathleen answered.

"Dad's flight leave on time?" he asked.

"Actually it was a little behind schedule. Anyway, I just came to say "Good night, "and I'll be back in the morning," Mrs. Mann replied bending down to give him a light kiss on his forehead. "You take care, Marshall."

"I'm doing my best," the young man replied.

"Sleep well, Son," his mother said giving his hand a squeeze before replacing it on the bed. Watching as his eyes drifted closed she silently left the room.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N Been a bit caught up in real life but here is the next chapter. _

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Marshall was doing his best to convince Dr. Featherstone that he was doing well enough to be transferred out of the SICU. "As you can see I had a pretty good night," he was saying.

"I read that already in your chart," she replied folding her arms and regarding him quizzically. "Frankly I'm not sure I'm quite ready to transfer out of here."

"And why not?" Marshall asked trying not to sound frustrated. "It's not like you're releasing me from the hospital."

"Well let me spell it out for you. Say I do authorize your transfer to the Med-Surg Unit where you can have a phone and depending on the room, a laptop. Given your obsession with reading, what's to say _you_ won't be spending too much time with either instead of resting like you should?" the neurosurgeon asked.

"Because I know that if I do, you'll have them taken away," the young man answered.

"Exactly, Mr. Mann. Both are privileges which at my discretion I can and will revoke. What you do after you're out of the hospital is up to you but as long as you're in here it's up to _me. _Understood?" the doctor said firmly.

"Understood," he replied.

"Good. There is a bed available on the unit right now and as soon as I get a free minute I'll sign off on your transfer," the woman continued.

"Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" he asked.

'I could've but I wanted you to understand that just because you're in a room with less monitoring doesn't mean you can't overdo it. If you keep on experiencing severe headaches especially accompanied by nausea I want you to report them right away," Dr. Featherstone instructed.

"Don't worry, I will," Marshall answered. "Now when can I get out of here?"

"Sometime after lunch. I'll send someone from transport to get you," the doctor replied, heading for the door chart in hand.

"I can hardly wait," he muttered picking up his magazine and quickly flipping pages.

It was actually past 2:00pm by promised transport arrived and the door opened to admit a young man pushing a gurney. "Marshall Mann?" he asked, checking the name on the transport orders.

"That's me," the patient answered.

""I'm Pete and I'm here to take you on a road trip and a change of scenery," the orderly answered as he maneuvered the gurney close to the bed and lowered the rail.

Jess had followed the orderly and methodically set about making sure the monitoring equipment was removed and the IV bag transferred to the pole on the gurney. "Glad to be leaving us?" she asked Marshall.

"Yeah. But I'll really be glad when I can go home and get back to work,' he answered.

She smiled and lowered her voice asking, "Do you think it would be okay if I stopped by and visited you? You know bring anything the twins drew."  
"That would be great," the young man answered.

"Just slide on over onto the gurney," the orderly said moving to give help if needed.

Marshall carefully grabbed the railing and eased himself onto the gurney being careful of his broken ribs. He groaned softly feeling them shift slightly.

"You okay?" Jess asked quietly.

"Yeah. Just a slight ache in my side," the patient said reassuringly. "It'll pass."

"Want to have me raise the head so you can sit up a little?" the orderly asked. "Most folks prefer sitting up if they can since depending on the speed, watching the ceiling tiles flash by overhead can make them feel somewhat nauseated."

Deciding to be safe than sorry Marshall opted for sitting up. "Go ahead and raise it up," he said.

"Good choice," the orderly replied as he deftly raised the head of the gurney to a semi sitting position.

In the Med-Surg Unit Marshall was met by a couple of young nurses who immediately too charge. Handing the plastic bag to one of them, a petite Asian she said, "He's all yours."

"Gee, thanks," the other a spiky blonde said with mock sarcasm.

"Which room?" Pete was asking.

"The private one at the end of the corridor with the lovely view of the parking lot," the Asian nurse instructed.

"Hey, make sure Mary knows where I'm at," Marshall said to Jess.

"I will," she promised and headed for the elevator.

"I'm Hope Liang and this is Nika Tyler. We'll be primarily in charge of your care this shift," the Asian nurse made introductions.

"Liang? That name sounds vaguely familiar," the young man commented.

"It's not all that uncommon a name and I do have an Auntie in Missouri I'm named after," Hope replied leading the way down the corridor and opened to the door to the room. "Welcome to your home away from home."

The room had a bed with the window on one side and a TV/DVD combo attached to the wall facing it. There were also a couple of chairs at the foot and side of the bed as well as the usual bedside table this time complete with cordless phone and other furniture. "Is there wifi access?" Marshall asked as the gurney was pushed up beside the bed.

"Yes. The private rooms are and Dr. Featherstone specifically requested you have one," Hope answered. "Now let's get you settled in bed." She was busily hanging the IV bag on the pole by the bed while Nika turned back the covers.

The marshal carefully eased himself onto the bed not wanting to aggravate his ribs as they were still hurting from the earlier move. "Thanks," he said letting the blonde pull the sheet and blanket up over him.

"If you need anything, Mr. Mann," the call button is right beside the bed," Nika replied.

"I think I'm good for now. I just need to make a couple of phone calls," Marshall answered reaching for the phone.

"No charge for local calls however you need a phone card or access code for long distance and with the code the charges are applied to your hospital bill," Hope answered.

"These are local," he replied and waited for the nurses to leave before dialing the first number.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N THis could've been posted before Chapter 21 but the muse wasn't ready with this. Next chapter I promise some Mary/Marshall scenes._

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

Jasmine Weaver was waiting when Stan arrived to take her to the police station. Grabbing her pink hat and briefcase, she headed out to the vehicle and got in saying, "Do you know any good place where I can get a chai tea in this town?"

"As a matter of fact I do. I was planning to get some coffee myself," Stan replied.

"Jas, this is detective Bobby Dershowitz. He's the one in charge of the investigation. Detective, I want you to meet US Marshal Jasmine Weaver. She's the ex-FBI profiler I mentioned," Stan said making introductions.

"Pleased to meet you, Detective," the woman said holding out her hand.

He stared at the petite figure in pink and said, "No offense, Marshal Weaver, but you're not exactly how I'd imagine an FBI profiler to be like."

"Call me Jasmine. I never was one for all the titles and official protocol. And TV never gets it right anyway. Take that current TV series for example," Jasmine replied.

"I'm afraid I don't get all that much time to watch TV," the detective answered.

"You really should check out _Body of Evidence_. It's based on cases of a colleague of mine—Dayle Hinman .from down in Florida. Now that shows a real FBI profiler at work," Jasmine replied.

"Any luck finding out who leaked the information about Marshall to the paper?" Stan asked as he took a seat at the table.

"As a matter of fact I did. The leak ended up coming from the ME's office. Seems the driver makes a few extra bucks on the side selling items of interest to the newspaper," Dershowitz replied.

. "Well, let's get started. I'd like to see the files on your open homicide case and I'll see about getting a hold of the files on the other cases. Right now what I'd like to see this morning is the scene of the attacks and see if there were any possible escape routes for the killer," Ms. Weaver said.

"Sounds like a plan," the detective commented.

"Don't let all that pink fool you. Marshal Weaver just happened to be one of the best FBI profilers on the West Coast. That is until she joined the US Marshal Service," Stan said.

"It's my way to stand out. Being just shy of five feet I need to do something," the woman added. "Anymore I write books and assign other marshals."

"I've been trying to get in touch with the police in the cities where the other murders occurred and see if there is any evidence there. Right now the only evidence linking all the victims is the DNA the killer left at the scene. And we were lucky to get that much since there was a heavy rain almost immediately after the crimes occurred," Bobby explained. He passed the crime scene photos to Jasmine. "I warn you its not very pretty."

"Neither is looking at the body of a child who's been forced to make kiddy porn flicks and then killed when she's outlived her usefulness," the woman replied as she stared at the photos of the victim.

"I recall when that case broke. Made the national news," Bobby commented.

"I don't see much damage to the victim except for shallow cuts and a slit throat. Was there any sign of sexual trauma?" Jasmine asked after a minute.

"Not in this case. What I think is that the killer heard something, most likely Marshal Mann, and decided to finish her off quickly. The other cases the sick bastard apparently took his time and enjoyed it.," the detective replied.

"Let's go see the crime scene now," the woman spoke up. "I'll ride in the backseat since it gives me time to gather my thoughts."

The tattered remnants of the crime scene tape still blocked off the alley entrance and Dershowitz simply help it up to allow the marshals to proceed. "We've processed the scene pretty thoroughly already although the rain washed away most of the evidence," he explained.

Stan looked at the faint chalk outline and the pink tinged gravel which indicate d where the body had lain. A few feet away and scattered about were the litter from the paramedics as they had worked on Marshall. "Not much to see," he commented.

"Hey, in case Mann asks about his piece, I've got it at the station for safe keeping. We found it in the alley a few feet away and the prints came back as his," the detective told Stan.

"He'll be glad to hear that," the marshal replied

"I hope your profiler can help us identify a suspect before he kills again," Dershowitz stated.

"What's the time span between the first to this current murder?" Jas mine asked.

"Eighteen months. First killing was in Kansas City, MO and two more occurred in the next three months; one more in Kansas City and then in St. Louis.," Dershowitz replied.

"I take it he left Missouri then only to resurface in another state. Same pattern of killing?" the woman asked.

"Exactly. Two in one city and one in another," the detective answered.

"Then there is going to be one more victim in Albuquerque before he moves on," she said.

"Yes. And that sick bastard is out there somewhere in my city waiting for the next victim. And I have no clue in hell who it is," Bobby stated.

Having cut his hair and shaved his beard, the man had found hunting to be unsatisfactory. Despite what he's thought promising ground he'd been only to attract those where were too old, too used, their sweetness long gone leaving only a bitter taste But he had plenty of time and hadn't exhausted his hunting ground just yet. Reaching in his pocket to caress his knife he smiled slightly as he thought of eliminating the witness. Perhaps after that he'd be able to be more successful in his hunting.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

"Okay, Guiler, here's the plan. You take this list of witnesses and make personal contacts with each and everyone. And if you run into any trouble, call Either Stan or me," Mary instructed, handing over the list. "We can compare notes later."

"Dinner would be a good time to get together and _discuss_. I heard there's a wonderful little place not far from here," Guiler replied giving her a knowing wink.

Mary simply ignored him and stomped out. "What part of _not interested _does he not understand?" she muttered. Getting in her car, she headed off to check on a couple of Marshall's witnesses as well as several of her own.

Two hours later she had just stepped out of the apartment belonging to one of her witnesses when her phone rang. Quickly answering it, she said, "Hello?"

"Hey," Marshall said.

"Hey, Doofus. Glad to hear your voice. You moved out of Intensive Care yet?" Mary asked.

"Yeah. Got moved to a private room just a little while ago. I can now have a phone and it has wifi access," Marshall answered sounding happier than he had since his attack.

"Great. I gotta get going. But I'll come by and visit tonight. Maybe even sneak in a piece of your favorite pie. Hey, do you need me to go by your place and pick up your laptop?" she asked.

"No, that's okay. I'll have my mom do it. I think she still has the spare key from the last time she visited," Marshall replied.

"Okay."

"Hey, how's my replacement working out?" the young man asked.

Your _temporary _replacement. I sent him off on own to check on your witnesses. And so far no calls from him or Stan sending me to bail him out of a jam. That I'm gonna take as a good sign. However he's taken every opportunity to ask me out to dinner. And I just bed his idea of dessert is himself; served up in bed."

Marshall had taken that moment to have a drink of water and he just about choked on it hearing that last remark.

"Marshall? You okay?" Mary asked anxiously hearing him coughing.

"Okay," Marshall answered once he got his breath back. "You know you have that effect on men. Even Bobby D asked if you were seeing anyone."

"I'll just bet all the nurses are fighting to take care of you," she teased, immediately changing the subject.

"Well, I do have a pretty pair this shift; a blonde and a Chinese girl. At least her last name sounded Chinese," he answered.

"And I just bet you had to Impress her by saying something in Chinese," Mary commented.

"Not yet. I'm not sure what she speaks and there's a number of dialects; Mandarin, Cantonese-"

"I get the picture. What dialect do you speak?" Mary asked.

"Cantonese," he replied.

"Damn it, Marshall, I needed to be off the phone like five minutes ago," she swore. "Take care, Doofus." She hung up the phone and stuck it in her pocket,

Marshall was smiling as he hung up the phone and then dialed Kathleen's cell phone. Getting her voice mail, he listened to it and then said," Mom, I got moved to a new room. If you still have my key could you please bring me my laptop as well as a couple of pairs of pajamas and T-shirts.? Thanks."

The door to his room suddenly opened as Nika stuck her head in to say, "Just checking to see if you need anything, Mr. Mann."

"As long as you're here could you please get me my magazine?" the young man asked.

"Sure no problem," she said retrieving the _Reader's Digest_ and handing it to him.

"Thanks," Marshall said flipping it open. He was so intent on the magazine he didn't hear the nurse as she made her exit.

It was about five minutes later when the phone rang and he absently answered it, "Hello?"

"Marshall, I just got your message," Kathleen said.

"Oh, hi, Mom. You still have the key to my place?" the young man asked.

"I do. I'll be happy to get whatever you need. Just let me know," Mrs. Mann said pulling a pen and notepad from her purse.

"I just need my laptop since I can have wifi access in the room. You can also grab a couple of pairs of pajamas and the T shirts with them. And maybe a couple of books," Marshall answered.

"I think I've got everything down. Laptop, sleepwear, books," Kathleen replied looking at her hastily scribbled list. "I'm going to run by your place, make a couple of stops and then I'll bring by everything."

"Okay, I'll see you then," he answered and hung up the phone.

He'd finished the magazine and was contemplating calling in a nurse to bring him the newspaper when the door to his room opened to admit his mother with both hands holding plastic bags. Behind her was the Chinese nurse carrying another bag and the laptop, "Did I ask you to bring _all_ that?" he asked in confusion.

"Here's your computer,' Hope said setting on the bed table and pushing it slightly out of reach. "I'll be in to check on you later."

"Well, you did ask for the sleepwear and books. But you didn't say anything about underwear so I went and bought some as well as a robe and slippers," Kathleen explained.

"Mom," Marshall began his face turning a little red.

"I also grabbed your razor because you could really use a shave," Mrs. Mann said fondly.

He looked up at Hope and asked, "Do you think I could put on something else besides this gown?"

"I don't see why not. Do you need help getting dressed?" the nurse asked.

"I'll manage," he said firmly.

Kathleen took it as a cue to leave saying, "I'll go get a cup of coffee and be back in ten minutes."

"Okay," he said and then looked over at Ms. Liang.

"I'll step outside the curtain but that's all I do," the nurse replied. She waited until Kathleen had left and then pulled the curtain.

Marshall dug through the bags and pulled out his favorite well worn pair of cowboy pajamas and grey T-shirt. Grabbing a pair of boxer shorts, he pulled them on and then removing the gown he got into the sleepwear. "Would you mind putting the rest of the clothes away?" he asked.

"You decent now?" Hope asked pulling aside the curtain

"Yeah. Now can I have my computer?" Marshall asked.

The young woman bit back a smile at the choice of her patient's sleepwear. "You can have it for awhile but Dr. Featherstone has left strict orders that it be taken away before your bed time," she said, pushing the table back over to the bed. "Have fun, Cowboy." Picking up the bags from the bed she went to put away the clothing in the wardrobe/dresser.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Who Protects The Protector?**_

"Okay, Stan, I'm outta here," Mary announced as she shut down he computer.

"Going to stop by the hospital and see Marshall tonight?" he inquired.

"He got moved out of Intensive Care earlier today so of course I will. May stop and get him a surprise or two," Mary replied.

"Jasmine-Marshal Weaver-and I might stop by later. She's got him an autographed copy of thee book of hers," Stan said.

"Oh, he'll love that." She folded her arms and queried, "And just how well do you know this woman?"

"Jasmine and I worked together some years ago on a case. A counterfeiter in witness protection decided to return his old line of work and then skipped with $20,000 in funny money. Anyway Jas was the profiler called in with the FBI and we just kind of stayed in touch through the years," her supervisor replied. "Honestly, we're just friends."

"Just friends? Is that why you're getting all blushy?" Mary teased.

"I thought you said you were leaving," the now flustered marshal said, gathering up a file and beating a hasty retreat to his office.

"I am. I'll tell Marshall you and your lady friend will be stopping by to see him," Mary replied as she picked up her purse and heading for the door.

Leaving the federal Building the young woman decided to make a couple of stops before heading for the medical center. Now that Marshall was out of the Intensive Care he probably wanted something else to wear than the hospital gowns. So she decided to get him the most ridiculous looking pair of pajama pants she could find. A visit to the largest department store in town soon rewarded her efforts with a pair of purple pajamas with hula dancing aliens all over it. "I'd like to know what the designer was smoking when he came up with _this_," she muttered as she tossed the pajamas in her cart along with a matching purple t-shirt. Passing by another department she spotted a display of cowboy hats and selected one deciding that Marshall could use it to cover up his head until his hair grew back. A final stop to get his favorite pie which she made sure was well hidden in a shopping bag and she was on her way to the hospital.

Arriving at the hospital Mary headed directly for the Med-Surg Unit and stopping at the desk she stated, "I'm here to see Marshall Mann."

"Name?" the nurse asked.

"Mary Shannon," the marshal replied.

"I see you're on the list of approved visitors. Mr. Mann is in room 14," the young woman said. "Just down the corridor."

"Thanks," Mary replied and quickly made her way to the indicated room. Peering through the open door she saw that the privacy curtains were drawn and an Asian appearing nurse was stepping out of the bathroom an emesis basin in her hands. "Did I come at a bad time?"

Hope looked over to say "He's been complaining of a headache and nausea and then just got sick a few minutes ago. I'm going to see if his doctor left any orders for the pain and nausea."

Nika was wiping off the young man's face with a damp cloth as she asked, "Still feeling sick?"

"A little," Marshall admitted.

"We'll have you feeling better in no time, Cowboy," Nika said reassuringly.

"Be glad…of that," he replied.

"Could you please wait outside for a few minutes?" the other nurse was saying to Mary. She handed the basin to Nika and then silently left to get the meds.

"I'll be back in about ten minutes, Doofus," the marshal said. She placed her bags in the chair and followed Hope out the door.

Hope had quickly called Dr. Featherstone to give her a brief update on her patient's condition and then got the prescribed meds. Returning to the room she quickly injected them into the IV. "I called your doctor and she'll probably be in to see you later tonight," she told Marshall.

"She'll probably just decide to keep me here longer," he said and sighed.

"It's up to her. Anyway the meds should take effect pretty quickly and make you a little drowsy. I'll go let your visitor know she can come back in," the Asian nurse replied. She motioned to Nika to follow her out.

A couple of minutes later Mary stuck her head in the door to ask, "Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Some. The meds are taking effect," Marshall said and yawned.

"Good drugs?" Mary asked with a smile. She picked up the bags and held them out.

"Yeah, good drugs," he answered. "Hey, what's in them?'

"I stopped to do a little shopping before I came here. "Thought you could use this. You know, until your hair grows back," Mary said handing him the bag with the hat.

"I think you got it wrong. It's the bad guys who wear black," Marshall said a she held it up to look at it..

"It's not black. Just a deep navy blue," she pointed out.

"Thanks," he said reaching to put it on.

"Be careful with the other bag. I slipped a piece of pie in it to sneak in here," Mary cautioned as she handed him the other one.

"I don't think I really feel like having pie tonight," the young man told her.

She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "Well, maybe the nurses can put it in a fridge or something for you."

Marshall carefully removed the pie and set it aside and then reached in to pull out the pajamas. Holding them up he burst out laughing at the designs. "You really outdid yourself with these. And they're even the right size," he said after a moment.

"I thought maybe you could use these also if your mom wasn't "able to bring you anything," Mary explained and eyed the table with the computer than had been shoved into the corner. "Obviously she did."

Yeah, she still had the key to my place," he answered and yawned again.

"By the way Stan said to tell you that he and his profiler _friend _will be stopping by," Mary said putting emphasis on the word _friend_.

"So Stan has a girl friend, huh?" Marshall asked.

"Apparently so. When I questioned him about how well he knows her he got all blushy and flustered," Mary replied. She watched him trying to stifle a yawn. "Am I boring you?"

"No, no. It's just the meds. The nurse said that they'd probably make me drowsy," Marshall was quick to answer.

"As long as I'm not boring you I might as well stay," she commented taking a seat in the chair by the bed.

"Hey, thanks for everything," Marshall said after a moment.

"Well, when I end up in the hospital you can bring me presents," she said in return.

"What about pie?" he asked with a slight smile.

"I think I'll prefer chocolate in stead. Hey where's your mom?"

"I sent her off to get supper. She should be back soon," Marshall replied. He reached up to take off the hat so he could lie back down. "Hey, could you set it on the dresser for me?'

"If you insist," Mary said getting to her feet and taking the hat.

The door opened and Kathleen entered a paper bag. Walking over to the bed she gave Marshall a kiss and handed him the bag saying, "I got you some puzzle books to work on if you get bored."

"Thanks, Mom," he said and looked in the bag. "Hey, you got the newest soduko book."

"Hello, Mary. Keeping him entertained?" Kathleen asked as she took the other chair and sat down.

"Doing my best," Mary answered. "It's not easy"

"She did get me these" Marshall said holding up the pajama pants. "Just in case you weren't able to."

"I dare you to actually wear these tomorrow," Mary told him.

He chuckled and said, "That should amuse the nurses."

"Hey, are we interrupting anything?" Stan said as he stuck his head in the door.

"Come on in, Stan. I'd offer you a chair but I seem to have run out" Marshall told him.

"That's okay. Jasmine and I were on the wait to meet Dershowitz and then head for supper," Stan replied.

Jasmine, attired in pink as usual, walked over to the bed saying, "I managed to find a copy of my book to autograph for you." She handed it over to the younger man who eagerly took it.

"Wow! Thanks, Marshal Weaver," he said, "I'll really enjoy reading it," Marshall a big grain on his face.

"Please call me Jasmine," the woman replied. "I sincerely hope you'll be out of here soon."

"You and me both. The doctor says I'll probably be able to go back to work as soon as my head heals up," He answered.

"Your job will still be waiting for you, Marshall," Stan assured him.

"That's good to hear," Marshall replied. "I wasn't ready to find a new position."

"Just between us, Marshall, Stan said you're one of the best inspectors he's had in long time," Jasmine said,

"Hey, you weren't supposed to say that," Stan cut in. "Jas and I need to be running along. Take care, Marshall."

Once the pair had left Mary quipped, "They do make such a cute couple, don't they?"

"I wonder how long until she has him wearing nothing but pink," Marshall replied.

You know I saw T-shirt once that said _Real men wear pink_. Do you think he'd like it?" Mary commented in a teasing voice.

Kathleen reached over to swat her son's arm with a magazine, "Marshall James, do want me to tell Mary about the time your cousin Brianna dressed you up in a pink tutu one Halloween?" she asked with a smile.

"Mom, I was only three years old," he protested.

"Do tell," Mary said doing her best to imagine Marshall in a tutu and trying not to laugh at the same time.

"He pranced around the house in that thing for the next week. In fact I think I even have a picture with me in my purse, she told the younger woman.

"Mom, please. Not that," Marshall begged.

Mrs. Mann reached in her purse and pulled out the photo of Marshall and two older girls in Halloween costumes. "That's Marshall and a couple of his cousins. Being at times the only boy with a bunch a girls they did there best to _sissify_ him as he called it. That time it obviously worked," she explained.

"Oh, he looks so cute with the flowers in his hair," Mary commented.

"If a person can die from embarrassment then you just killed me," Marshall announced.

"Hmm, that picture has definite blackmail possibilities," Mary joked. She looked over her partner. "Don't be so melodramatic, Doofus."

"If Stan ever finds out about this so help me-" he began.

"How would you know if he did?" Mary asked with a not so innocent look.

"I'll see you in the morning, Marshall. Get some rest now," Kathleen said getting up to kiss his cheek.

"Night , Mom," he said and yawned.

"I'd better be going too," Mary said, "But I'll stop by to see you tomorrow. "Take care, okay" She got to her feet and headed for the door.

"Night, Mary," he murmured as the meds were really starting to make him sleepy.


End file.
